


the taste of your lips is my idea of luxury (say you fancy me)

by dankobah



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, F/M, gratuitous fashion description, rich people acting irresponsibly? hot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-01-02 12:28:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21161675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dankobah/pseuds/dankobah
Summary: Rey slams the door behind them, covering it up by leaning against it.She breathes hard, the bodice of the dress digging into her ribs and heels pinching her feet.  Fuck a gala, especially one that keeps them miles apart.  Ben’s loosening his bowtie and feral words can’t help but come from her lips, reminders from right before his exit from the car.“Spoil me?  You want to spoil me?”Her breath hitches and palms sweat.Ben doesn’t hesitate.“I wouldn’t want anything more.”





	1. he looks up, grinning like a devil

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deadlikemoi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadlikemoi/gifts).

> **tags******  
brief mention of childhood abuse  
intoxication  
pregnancy mention

If you asked Rey ten weeks ago what she would be doing with her life, she would’ve told you that Plutt’s mechanic shop.

Certainly not entering the hiring process for the Alderaanian royal family on recommendation from Poe Dameron. She didn’t expect to double her current paycheck overnight and have a place to live that’s away from Jakku to boot.

Rey doesn’t expect a lot for her tiny existence, given she grew up a desert rat with nothing to look forward to but her next meal. If anything, stable housing and stable food is the ultimate goal in her life.

The Alderaanian Royal Family needs a temporary assistant for the prince since the permanent assistant is due with a baby in two months, and mandated maternal leave lasts as little as six months. Kaydel Connix had confessed, at the Prince’s birthday bash mind you, that she had no idea who would take over for her when her bouncing bundle of joy arrived.

Enter Rey, because Poe talked to Finn, and Finn decided to write home to his foster system friend that was (seemingly) permanently stuck in the doldrums of Jakku. Rey thought that getting hired would be a longshot, given she had no visa for Alderaan.

But, after a long phone call with Finn and a bottle of wine, she found herself emailing Kaydel Connix a thin resume and an even thinner cover letter. Her chances seemed bleak, but when Rey got the email back requesting a meetup, she knew that she kicked something intense into gear that she couldn’t stop.

Next thing she knew, she was on a train to Alderaan with only a rolling suitcase and a nervous flutter in her gut that only subsided when Leia Organa’s uncharacteristically kind eyes settled upon her in the royal dining room.

_ “Typically, I have HR do the interviews but,” she stirs the cream into her turquoise blue tea, turning a milky pastel with each drop, “I’m sure you understand that we’re discussing my son.” _

_ Rey understood it loud and clear, her glass of water untouched and her new (and expensive) wool blazer very itchy. She’s meeting with fucking royalty, so she needs to look put together. This is the woman who’s going to sign off on her visa application, the woman who’s ultimately going to pay her. _

_ Not to mention being the reigning queen of Alderaan. _

_ “What do you know about my son?” _

Admittedly not much.

Rey had seldom done research on the man, only gleaning that he’s thirty-four, served in the military, and seems to be a major party animal. The deep brunette is always out with Poe Dameron, a fiery ginger, and an insanely tall blonde woman that makes Rey’s mouth dry. If she gets hired, is that his girlfriend? All the media reports the aquiline featured man to be a bachelor, too focused on military charities and whatever the fuck princes have to do. 

Nothing prepared her for getting hired and meeting him, however.

_ She’s in the informal dining room this time, where the family seems to take breakfast every day. Rey is extremely lucky that they’re reimbursing her train tickets and Ubers since she’s been hired. They’re just waiting for her Visa to zing through the immigration offices, mightily helped by a signature from the Queen herself. _

_ If Leia Organa liked her, Rey would be okay. _

_ Finn’s fretting an unusual amount, coordinating his break with Prince Organa’s schedule to make this meeting happen. Kaydel had suggested it before Rey officially take over the assistant duties, sort of a primer to what would be the next eight months. “Is he nice?” Finn looks up from brewing a pot of tea. Rey had declined and opted for just water. _

_ He shrugs, “I mean...he can be.” _

_ What did she get herself into? Her stomach flips over, and she still sits tight at the table. As if on cue, the door to the dining room swings open and the biggest man she’s quite possibly seen lumbers into the room. A noticeably pregnant honey blonde scurries behind. _

_ Kaydel manages to get out in front of him and stops him in his tracks. He’s got a strange face, very angular with a nose as straight as an arrow. He looks a lot like his mom, but she can see the hints of his (according to many publications) absentee father. _

_ “Prince Organa, this is Rey-” _

_ The prince looks Rey up and down before glancing at Kaydel. “Armitage requested me at his place in fifteen minutes, and I cannot be late.” _

_ She opens her mouth, and Rey can’t help but squeak, already risen out of her chair with her hand held out to shake. The prince notices this and completely bypasses with a roll of his eyes. _

_ What a fucking dick. _

They’ve gotten closer since he realized he was stuck with her. He made her first few days a trial by fire.

Rey has to know his entire life, after all, carry it around in some little book. Prince Organa Solo has an entire binder dedicated to him by Kaydel Connix. Full of contacts and passwords and q down to the last minute schedule. Ben, by all intents and purposes, shits on schedule.

But he has funny habits like the protein shakes he requests from the kitchen or his late-night walks in the gardens on his cellphone. She assumes her job could be much, much worse.

Like she could have an unruly teenager looking for anything to destroy. Ben can at least stay quiet, going out like a wild party animal all weekend but managing to keep all his escapades contained to the clubs. Nothing ever gets out, and sometimes she wonders how he does it. Can princes get away with a lot of things?

Or is Ben Solo just a slippery snake?

He’s out again tonight, and Rey has just now settled into bed. It’s odd, but she hasn’t been able to sleep because she misses the smell of Jakku. That clean, sandy wind mingled with just scraping by scrub. Alderaan smells too floral, as if the gardens that surround them are too much. Either way, she’s inhaling her baby blanket like an oxygen mask, trying to glean any amount of scent from it so she can head off to bed with comforting memories in her head.

Not the ones where Plutt whipped her across the face with a belt, or she had to sleep in a dumpster for a month or two. But the ones where she brought home a teeny succulent and managed to keep it alive for six whole years. Or her first time meeting Finn. They’ve barely seen each other these past few weeks, given that he helps cook for the entire family. Rey just comes into the kitchen to order for the prince.

She curls up into an even tighter ball and tosses her blanket to the foot of the bed. The pillows are exceptionally plush and squishy, and she settles with a long sigh and an even longer look at the alarm clock.

She’s still staring as the clock changes over to 1:37, and that’s when she hears it: soft, rumbling laughter coming from outside of her door. She bristles up, and before she can get up and conceivably open the door, it nearly flies off its hinges.

What. The. Fuck.

Her boss comes into her room without knocking, stumbling with a large cardboard box in his arms. His tousled sable hair is in his face as he kicks the door shut behind him, sending a loud slam through the hall.

Rey jolts upright and turns on the bedside lamp, the plan to fake asleep going out the open window, “Shush! What are you doing here?” 

Ben (she’d never dare to call him his first name to his face) laughs. Loudly, nearly pained as he sweeps his too-long hair out of his face. How is this man thirty-four? Why is he in her room?

His eyes are devilish, even in the dark, as he comes close to the bed. She bristles, and he drops the box at the foot of the queen poster bed. All the furniture in the Organa staff bedrooms is too luxurious, carved woods and traditional colors. Rey’s managed to dress up the white bedspread with a ratty and chewed baby blanket.

She pulls it from beneath the box and glares at him, clutching it close to her chest. She was found with it, along with the doll that she’s stashed beneath the comforter. It’s the only thing she has from her parents. “I got you something.”

His speech is slurred as he’s digging into the box, crisp and new leather jacket occasionally squeaking. She can’t help but notice how broad his shoulders still look. She had thought his military regalia had been adding onto his width.

No, Ben is just broad, if she’s allowed to notice such a thing about her boss. He’s pulling out what looks to be a shoebox, and he holds it out to her. Rey makes a show of shaking her head, crossing her arms over her chest, and willing him to get the fuck out of her room. She’d like to sleep so she can get up in time for her early start time. She’s expected to be up before the prince; especially when there’s going to be an event like a lunch with a senator’s family from Corellia.

“Oh, play nice, sweetheart.” She bristles at the moniker, at how casual he says it with loose alcohol lips. Was it gin that made him so bold? Smells like it. He’s opening the shoebox, and that's when he’s pulling out a high heeled pump.

Blood red paints the sole, the color difference barely noticeable in the dim of the room. Her heart stops at the pointed toe or how high they stand. Ben holds it indelicately by the heel, and she finds herself wincing at what she’s looking at. Louboutins, new ones.

All for her.

No, this has to be a mistake. Ben looks at the shoe and back to her. “Every media hounded assistant needs a killer pair of heels.” She can’t help but inch up a little more and peer at the shoe even closer. 

“Do you like them?”

She glances at how hopeful he looks. Why is he kin to a puppy? Her stomach flips over, and she can’t help but bite her lower lip and tug. 

“This is highly-”

“Needed? Do tell.” He's insufferable, but she has to deal with him, given her job description. She's delicate when she takes the shoe from his grip, setting it off to the side.

"Inappropriate."

He's whip-like in his response, "Consider it a business expense, Rey." She bristles at her first name, used to Miss Johnson from his lips. He's normally cordial, less cocky. Gin makes a man brave, and the lady dealing with the sloshed has to be braver.

"Wear them tomorrow. You'll be on camera."

By the blood of Alderaan, only for fifteen seconds before she retreats with Rose and Korr. She grits her teeth and watches him swing his arms back and forth, like a bored little boy waiting for an answer.

"I have heels-"

"I insist."

Damn him to hell. She sighs deeply and evaluates her options. She could make a fuss, and kick him out of her room, explain the next morning if anyone happens to find out. Or she could agree, toeing into the dark side of designer depths. 

She’s not doing this to make him happy. She’s doing this because she really likes her job, and if her boss trampling into her room with designer shoes is apart of it, she’ll adapt.

“Fine. Put the box on my bed, and please go to your room.” Rey doesn’t want to get out from under the covers and lead him there, but if she has to, then by god, she has to. She’ll need to put on pants, however, and she’s not sure if he’d turn around. Ben shuffles back to grab the shoebox with the other pump in it, tossing it on the bed. She takes a deep breath before offering a tight smile.

“Goodnight, Prince Organa.” She still holds the pump in her hand, so delicately that one would think a newborn would be in her grip. Ben glances her up and down before nodding in what seems to be satisfaction, then turning around.

“Be safe, please. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“With the shoes.”

She grits her teeth, “Yeah, with the shoes.”

She swears she sees a beat of a cocky smile before he steps out of her room, closing the door delicately. Rey looks at the Louboutin, before chucking it across the room and flopping back onto her back.

Tomorrow couldn’t come slow enough.

👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑

Last night didn’t happen.

There’s no way in hell it did, not even as Rose paces the length of her room, “Now say that one more time?”

Rey is looking through her walk-in closet for anything adequate to pair with the devil shoes that sit on her comforter. So far, nothing takes the cake. She pokes her head out of the closet to watch Rose. Her Majesty is in the throes of meetings, leaving Rose and Korr up to their own devices until they’re buzzed. Their jobs are cushy at best, just a bunch of waiting around on the elite.

The lack of manual labor or auto grease takes some getting used to, and Rey still feels like reaching for a wrench and disappearing under a hood would be easier. “He barged into my room and gave me Louboutins.”

Rose looks at the shoes. “Right...but why?”

She looks almost pained, like trying to think of a reason is headache-inducing. Rey is in the same boat as far as she’s concerned.

“I don’t know. I’m more concerned why Finn hasn’t paged me that he got breakfast.” Finn’s uber helpful in that regard, giving Rey a cue on when to go in and work on a seamless morning for Ben.

Most of the time, Ben wants to be left alone. Occasionally he’ll text a word like “cigarettes” and Rey has to get her happy ass up and over to the convenience store. That usually takes an hour, getting in and out of the palace a chore when you’re still new. Regulars like Poe Dameron get an instant entrance.

Days with royal engagements are still terrifying. Official declarations and messages, lunches, diplomats, it all makes her head spin. Rey tails him like a puppy, carrying his paper agenda and a killer tote bag with anything he might need. Breath mints, candy, cologne, you name it.

This lunch with Corellia has the entire royal staff in a frenzy of preparation, given recent comments and animosity between the two countries. Finn could be overtime in the kitchen, but he wouldn’t just forget.

Would he?

Rose voices her exact plan, “Maybe go check on him? I can go check with Finn about breakfast.” Rey nods quickly and pulls a skirt and turtleneck. Grabbing just a random pair of black hose, she trudges back out to her bedroom and begins to strip.

Rose is already on her way out, quietly shutting the door behind her as Rey reaches behind to zip up the tight pencil skirt. She’s never gotten ready faster, ripping her cellphone off the charger and staring the Louboutins down like an enemy.

It’s not like they’ll fit, there’s no way he knows her shoe size. Charging forward, she grabs one and quickly lifts her foot to slide it on.

A perfect fit.

How the fuck did he get her shoe size? Let alone picking out the perfect size of Louboutin, french, and fancy. Rey would be a liar if she didn’t drool over them once before, only that had been the nude pair, and this is a jet black beauty that makes her mouth salivate. She’s wearing hundreds of dollars on her feet, and they pinch like hell.

There’s no time, glancing at the 9:57 time on the clock and knowing the family needs to gather for lunch at eleven. Not to mention that Ben has to be presentable and barely hungover looking, a feat in itself for a thirty-four-year-old. Given how wasted he was mere hours ago, there’s a high probability that this won’t be easy.

She rushes out of her room, unused to the five-inch heels on her feet and practically gliding down the hall. Cleaning staff sees her and parts for her, an unspoken rule that assistants take utmost priority in the royal household. 

Rey reaches the nondescript double doors by ten, and she doesn’t hesitate on knocking. Hopefully, he woke himself up and he’s blow-drying his hair.

She waits, counting off sixty seconds until she's sure she's not going to get a response. That's when she yanks the door open with her eyes shut tight (just in case he's indecent).

Snoring permeates the space, and she chances one eye open.

Ben's room is the height of luxury, high ceilings, and Alderaanian blue wainscoting. The wood is hidden underneath an ornate and alike blue Jakku woven rug. The bed is a four poster like hers, only larger to accommodate the sleeping beast.

Ben is facedown, and she’d be worried if his snores don’t sound like a lawnmower revving up. She glances around the room in thought, looking for something loud. He has no such thing, but at least his drunk ass put his phone on the charger.

She doesn’t have any clue how to wake him up without touching him, and he’s bare under the comforter. It feels like too far, and Rey knows she has to get very creative.

She goes with the unconventional, reaching out to grab a poster and hoist herself up.

The mattress is too plush beneath her Louboutins, but she shakily stands anyway. He snoozes away, soft snoring rattling his body and making her heart uncomfortably swell. He's a bratty prince that she works for, not some sleeping baby.

Though he did buy her the Louboutins that are about to dig into his back.

"Prince Organa?" She looms over him as he doesn't stir, glancing at the clock with a nervous wring of her hands. They have less than an hour to get ready for the family lunch with Corellia, and she knows he's uber meticulous about his appearance. She's once watched him fiddle with his crown for fifteen minutes, almost like he was contemplating its removal. Ben snores even louder, his head turning to the side instead of smashing into the pillow. How late did he stay out last night? Why the hell did he decide to come into her room, reeking of gin with the Louboutins in his grip? She feels uncomfortable wearing such finery on her feet.

Time to put them to good use.

Rey teeters as she lifts a foot, saying a silent prayer that she doesn't fall over when he inevitably stirs. Then her foot presses down right on his spine, heel digging into his skin. She leans her full weight on her foot, barely making an impression on his wide (and very sculpted) back. Ben goes rigid, the snoring stops. 

She stays still, even as he begins to stir and shift his body back and forth. “Rise and shine, sir.”

“Get the fuck off my back.” It’s a growl, inspiring something devilish in her heart that allows her foot to lift off his back.

“Thank you-” She stomps back down on his spine, and he howls, bucking her off and causing her to lose her balance. Rey begins to fall, reaching for a poster of the bed to steady herself and prevent a nasty twisted ankle. She doesn’t need such an injury right before an important lunch, even if she’ll only be on camera for sixteen whole seconds before having to retreat somewhere else in the house with Korr and Rose. Queen Leia requires two assistants rather than the one that her son requested, and at least Rey isn’t alone in the duty of serving the royal family.

Unfortunately, Rey misses her grip on the poster and falls straight off the mattress with a soft yelp. She lands hard on the wood floor, barely cushioned by the Jakku woven rug. She curls into a ball, but it doesn’t do much to protect her.

“Oh, shit.” His voice is gravelly as she struggles to sit up, wincing at the pain in the back of her leg. Rey subconsciously reaches back to touch the spot, hissing slightly. Feet stand before her, and she jerks her head up to look at him. Ben needs a lot of work before he even steps into the public eye today, five o’clock shadow and dark circles being significant indicators of a prince’s wild night out. She crosses her arms over her chest and keeps glaring at him.

“Forgive me. You just impaled my back.”

“You don’t want to make an enemy out of me.”

His retort is like a whip, “Are we enemies? Last I checked, you’re wearing my Louboutins.”

She hops up despite the soreness at that, ignoring the fact that he has an eight-pack and smooth chest that makes her head swim. She doesn’t dare let her eyes drift to his navel, to the line of dark hair that dips below his waistband. “Don’t be a cocky little shit. You came barging into my room last night with these in tow, demanding I wear them to a lunch I’m not even attending.”

“And yet you’re still wearing them.”

She scoffs, smoothing out her skirt, and curling her hands into fists at her sides. “They were the first shoes I saw, and I don’t like to think in the mornings. Nothing to do with your demands.” He had held her hostage, not leaving until she acquiesced like a pretty songbird.

She then gestures to her feet, “They hurt anyways. So I suggest you get ready and don’t be late, so I don’t have to be in these for longer than required.” 

Ben looks her up and down, crossing his arms over his chest and twisting his mouth in speculation. He looks like an asshole as he does it. “You look quite put together with them.”

Rey likes to think she knows how to dress typically. She’s paired a long-sleeved, cream turtleneck with a jet black pencil skirt. She’s even added hose, spotted with tiny and tasteful polka dots. Could the shoes elevate the look that much? Or is he just patting himself on the back?

Given that he’s half Solo, snark is a high possibility too. Even though she’s only been here for two weeks, she’s learned a lot about Han Solo. They both stumble into each other in the garages, given that Rey spends most of her free time leaned over her shitty 1999 Toyota Corolla. He’s restoring a 1967 Mustang GT Fastback; he’s let her drool over it, look under the hood, even get inside.

Ben raises his eyebrows the same way that his father does, goading her for an answer.

She doesn’t disappoint, “I look good all the time. I’ll have your usual breakfast sent up, Prince Organa.” With that, she sidesteps past him and out of the dark blue and grey bedroom. She even makes sure to slam the door behind her, heels clicking on the wood floor as she walks away.

Serves him right for doubting a girl like her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, this is my submission for a prompt fill for HouseDadam in the writing den! for obvious reasons, this shit spoke to me. i can't wait to continue this through november! please leave a comment, they help keep me going.
> 
> thoughts and feelings are welcome @ [twitter](https://twitter.com/dankobah) and [tumblr](https://dankobah.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> work title is inspired by ["king of my heart" by taylor swift](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1dmQXMGz7dE). chapter title is inspired by ["cruel summer" by taylor swift](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aRwy8FyH8ik).
> 
> the list:  
[louboutins](http://us.christianlouboutin.com/us_en/shop/women/so-kate-5.html)


	2. you were driving the getaway car (we were flying, but we'd never get far)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What would you like me to call you then?”
> 
> He responds as quick as he can manage, “Ben. Just Ben.”
> 
> Rey looks taken aback like she’s unlocked a special ability on a video game, and he can’t pinpoint anything more annoying. “Now let me buy you a new bag, eat dinner with my best friend, and then I’ll take you home. **Hell, if you complain about your feet enough, I’ll buy you a whole fucking shoe store just to show you I can do whatever I so choose.”******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **tags**  
****  
pregnancy mention  
alcohol mention  
mention of past relationship

He’s always been peculiar, ever since his tumultuous birth and even more stressful childhood.

Ben’s mother used to refer to him as “high-strung” but as he grew up, it converted to “awkward” and “anxious”. Then he got shoved in with Luke (who never had ties to the throne) to protect him from the media frenzy around his parent’s separation. Imagine getting told your parents are ultimately divorcing with a new bearded dragon in your lap, one that they had gotten you to soften the blow of the impending move.

Ben, as soon as he could, joined the military. It gave him structure, a place away from his batshit uncle, and the high expectations placed on a prince going to rule. No one, except the public, approved of his service. His mother thought he was bound to get killed, his dad hates war and would instead turn dirty tricks behind the scenes with his old smuggling career. That had been a PR disaster, along with finding out he was the grandson of a genocidal maniac who committed one of the worst atrocities in outer rim history.

In reality, no one can blame Ben for hating his title and his crown.

And no one can blame him for storming out of the lunch with Corellia when the coquettish daughter of the senator slurps her noodle too slowly with full-on eye contact. His mother had placed them across from each other, most likely a set up for love and marriage. Wouldn’t that be rich? He doesn’t love people, he’s made it abundantly clear with his lack of dating after Bazine.

He removes his crown as he storms away from the dining table, throwing the ornate and jeweled headpiece into a potted plant on his way upstairs. Staff part for him, the new ones occasionally bowing for him.

Fuck this. Ben makes it to his bedroom, moving to slam the door when Rey pops into view and catches it with a heeled foot. 

Rey is a tricky, tricky subject. He doesn’t consider himself to be a playboy, but if he were, she’d be his first target without a doubt. Honeyed green eyes, brunette hair, tan skin, long legs; she’s got the full package that makes his head swim. Not to mention she’s wearing the shoes he so awkwardly bought her. You see, he was drunk when he bought the shoes, and he was drunk when he gave them to her. Otherwise, giving your assistant sex symbol shoes while sober would be the worst thing since the heel slice of bread.

He just wanted to see her legs in them. That’s all. Anything else would be inappropriate and a clear breach of their working relationship. She pushes against the door, and he lets her, already beginning to remove his regalia without care. Rey is holding his crown, “No, you’re going back downstairs.”

“Bite me. Did my mother ask you to follow me?” She would, maybe, to retrieve whatever composure the family has left. She sets the crown on the bed and crosses her arms over her chest.

“No, I saw you storming through the hall like Hades in hell and decided to follow you myself. You really should be more careful with your crown, you only have one-”

He laughs, “I’ve had three. Try again.” He got rid of the other two in fits of rage, his first one tossed in the lake by Luke’s cabin when the divorce was announced to the public.

She gestures to the crown, “Fine. This one is significantly more expensive than my rent used to be, so I won’t let you be a maniac and toss it in some shrubbery.”

He’s pulling his coat off, being careless with the medals and ribbons that adorn it. “How sweet of you. You’re not getting a raise.”

“I don’t want one. Now please, put your coat back on-”

“No. I’m not going down there to make googly eyes with some barely eighteen-year-old coquette.”

She looks so exasperated, and Ben ducks into his walk-in closet to change into something more comfortable. He’s got a total of ten minutes before Chewie comes after him and drags him down by his hair, and he has to work fast and get out of the house. “Ben, please.”

Pulling on the black tee, he rifles for jeans. “Ben, I’ll get in trouble if you don’t go back down.” That makes him pause, leaning his head out of the closet to stare her down. She looks serious, biting her lower lip.

He takes another glance at her shoes before sighing. “You won’t get in trouble if you come with me.”

Her eyebrows raise. “Excuse me?”

“We’re taking a day trip into the city.” 

She begins shaking her head, and he ducks back into the closet. “Think about it, I’ll get a slap on the wrist because I’m me, you’ll be absolutely fine. It’s perfect.” He shucks on his jeans and zips them up, grabbing a random pair of black sneakers. Sadly, he doesn’t even bother with socks.

“Ben, I still think you should go back downstairs.”

She’s no fun, and he exits his closet while breaking up the pomade slicking up his hair. “Rey, it’s yes or no. I will leave you in the dust to find where I went.” He’s not opposed to being a dick to his assistant to get out of this infernal hellhole. He’d rather not, however. She struggles with her answer, and he pulls his leather jacket off the chaise lounge where he tossed it the night before. Ben doesn’t remember anything from last night, so he doesn’t remember how the Louboutins went down. Rey seems to be wearing them almost begrudgingly as if to spite someone or herself.

They look so unbelievably good on her stature, though. Kaydel might’ve been doing him a favor by replacing herself with Rey.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

Rebel girl joins the cause, he could worship at her feet if it wouldn’t be so weird. He shrugs on his jacket and walks past her. “Now, what car do you want to ride in?”

It’s no secret that he’s the ultimate gearhead, a lousy trait from his father that ends up with an accumulation of too many vehicles. Hell, Ben even owns a motorcycle he’s not licensed for (though he can ride like the best of them thanks to Han).

“U-Uh…” She looks taken aback like she wasn’t aware of the number of cars he has. His mother has been trying to force him to get a driver for every day because it’s safer because Ben travels like “an idiot with little regard for his safety”. Meaning that he drives himself and only brings one security guard around. Chewie doesn’t know about this plan yet, and he's trying to avoid the man's involvement.

At least, today, he’s bringing Rey. Who needs security when you have sunglasses? “I guess we’ll take the Porsche. It’s new so-” She opens her mouth but shuts it quickly, nodding up a storm.

“That sounds fine. Can I grab some things before we go?” She's already backing out of the room, and he supposed he can't really stop her. He nods, and she tears out of the room like a shaken nest of wasps. Ben takes his time in picking his sunglasses, though he defaults to his typical pair of matte black Moscots. 

He leisurely walks down the hall, waiting outside of her shut door while picking his nails. He supposes they need to leave fast if he has a prayer of getting out of here, and he’s shocked Chewie hasn’t shown up yet.

_Or better yet, your father and Chewie._

They’re the dynamic duo that Ben always wished he had, Poe being too annoying and Hux being too much of a Hux. He met Poe when he was very young and could never shake him, and Hux had been deployed with him. Phasma is a package deal with Hux, and sometimes Ben has to admit he prefers the blonde to the overglorified leprechaun any day.

He’d kill to visit Poe right now, shoot the shit, and hideout in his apartment. That is going to become impossible over the next month, given he and Kaydel are in the nesting phase of moving in together and parenthood. His pseudo-nephew is only a month and a half away, his nerves spiked for the baby he’s inevitably supposed to hold. Damn Poe, for being so close to him that he names Ben the baby’s uncle, another tier of hell would be if the baby was named after him. 

The door opens, and Rey is hurrying out with her black tote bag. He’s never noticed how plain it is, and he wrinkles his nose. She huffs, “What? Do I have something on my face?” 

He bites his lip, “I just really hate your tote bag.”

She stares at him before shaking her head to herself. “It’s useful. Now let’s go.” That’s right, they’re on a deadline. He leads the way through the house, keeping his head down through all the halls and avoiding the looks of staff. Somehow they make it to the garage, Ben pulling the Porsche keyfob off the hook by the door. In this garage (there are three on the property), his collection of cars reside. Rey is clearly in awe, tiptoeing past each one.

“I’d give you a tour, but we need to get the fuck out of here.”

She nods, then nearly jumping out of his skin as the low to the ground Porsche Taycan chirps to signify its open. He opens the door for her (because his parents raised the opposite of a savage), and she takes her sweet time ducking into it.

He’s hasty upon entering the car, slamming the garage door button, and impatiently pushing the engine to start. The car revs, a mechanical noise that peters out to a soft and breathy purr. It’s one of the weirdest sounding engines, but he loves it. “Are you buckled in?” She’s struggling to find it, looking every which way. Ben, without thinking, reaches over her and pulls the belt from the sidewall. He clicks the buckle and tugs it tight, earning a gasp. He then reverses quickly out of the garage, gliding over the gravel like a greased floor. He whips to the right to turn them fully around, “Shouldn’t we have security?”

“Ideally. I don’t need it.”

Rey sighs deeply, “Thank god, I brought pepper spray.”

He guffaws, “Like that’ll thwart an assassination attempt.”

She puts her head in her hands, “I’m going to get fired.”

“You’re my assistant, so I do the firing. You could say this was a hostage situation.” Because his bad behavior has been known to get others in deep trouble, he’s no stranger to tired scoldings from his mother.

Rey rifles through her tote bag, and it gives him an idea. A dumb one, but it’s still flowing out of his mouth like the globs of honey, the senator’s wife had put in her tea at lunch, “We’re getting you a new bag.”

She perks up, and he rolls down the uber tinted window to wave at the gate guard. He bows and opens the gate with no question. "I don't need one, nor can I afford one."

"Who said you were paying?"

Rey looks wide-eyed, then shaking her head. "You can't."

"I can and will. You're on camera all the time, you need to look as put together as possible." A canvas tote bag doesn't scream classy as a genuine leather masterpiece would.

"Prince Organa…" She looks like she can't muster up the courage to say whatever she'd like to say.

"No refusals. We're buying you a leather tote." Ben has money to burn, piles and piles from his trust fund and from the money he saved in the military. While guys were blowing it all on booze and titty bars, he was a diligent little saver and made sure he had a nest egg. Luke's freakishness about finance had made enough of an impression, regretfully enough.

She stays silent as they drive, and it isn't the type of silence that feels like drowning. It's comfortable, indicating she's watching the countryside morph into the outer fringes of the city. The palace is on the border of Aldera, where there's space to build and roam. The proper city of Aldera resembles a mini Coruscant, skyscrapers, and brick face townhomes galore. There's an electric rail system that rests on the sides of buildings and weaves in and out to take passengers where they need to go. There are still roadways for cars, but the congestion of traffic is significantly less with public transportation.

All in all, it's a charming place where many Alderaanians reside. He and Rey will blend right into the younger crowd roaming the streets, or at least he hopes so. Ben decides to head towards the designer district, little streets with storefronts that will make a wallet weep.

He decides to use his etiquette training, "So do you come to Aldera often?" Rey does get Sundays off every single week, and he's never been able to pinpoint what she does on those days away. The girl shakes her head, "No, not often. I prefer Crevasse." A much tinier city, built into the side of the mountain and around thirty minutes away, he wonders why that's her place of choice. Hell, if he's honest, he prefers the sunny lakeshores of Varykino. Naboo isn't far away, just a couple countries over on a quick private flight.

Maybe, just maybe, he could escape for a couple of nights this next month. The public would surely understand, given his efforts with his charities and also with the risky and volatile political climate that ends up at their doorstep more often than not. The Alderaanian royal family technically has no political power, only clout in that sphere from treaties and wars gone by. He wishes he could get stuff done when it comes to laws. His mother, a scandal in itself, almost abdicated to stay a senator, so he’s heard plenty about the state of the Earth as they know it. 

He’s going to get ripped to shreds by his mother when she has a free moment, and his father will probably be involved also. Chewie was probably preoccupied with him as usual, scheming up something new to do with Han’s retiree time. Otherwise, Ben would’ve been dragged back into that lunch within five minutes.

Instead, he’s in Aldera with his pretty assistant. He begins to look for parking along the street, Meryx Avenue bustling with activity. Small dogs, fashionable clothes, everything shiny and eye-popping. He’s in love with crystalline chandeliers in storefronts, entire window displays of models, minimalist collections of designer items.

Lucky for him, he finds a parallel spot and pulls into it with care. She looks nervous while he does it, leg bouncing as she scrolls through her cellphone. Ben hasn’t looked at his the entire drive, and he’s not planning on rectifying that anytime soon. He cuts the engine, looking over at her.

“You think you can unbuckle yourself?” She glares at him before clicking it open, and he gets out of the car at a gap in traffic. Before she opens her door, he swoops in and holds it open for her. She manages to get out of the car, even in stilettos and a tight skirt.

“Your poor feet.” 

She crosses her arms over her chest and stares him down, “This is your fault, and you know it.” He doesn’t respond, turning to the parking meter and tapping his credit card. Then he adjusts the time for two hours, figuring they’ll go bug Poe and Kaydel for dinner after this. It’s bound to be a perfect day in his mind.

Once the payment clears and the time shows up on the meter, he straightens up and glances around his surroundings. No paparazzi to be seen, he begins to walk in the direction of the more appealing designers like Tom Ford and Saint Laurent. He’s thinking of tying her Louboutins together with an alike bag, but his brain is too focused on if she’s keeping up with him. 

He looks back at her, and she’s nearly skipping behind him, his legs slowing to let her catch up. “This is very unnecessary, you know.”

“Business expense. PR will thank me for getting rid of that canvas monstrosity.” He knows maybe he’s going a little overkill, but something inside him lives for spoiling women in his life. Sure, he never did this with Kaydel (especially when Poe started showing an interest, she became like a little sister to Ben), but Rey is interesting, a shiny new toy whose buttons he has to press.

“It’s not bad. And it’s good for the environment.” Ben rolls his eyes to himself.

“I’m burning it as soon as we get to Poe’s place.”

“That’s not good for the environment, either.”

He stops in the middle of the sidewalk and turns to her. “Do I look like I’m well versed in the environment?”

She takes a deep breath before responding, “You drive an electric car and eat vegan on Mondays. Excuse me if I thought you gave a shit about anything, your highness.” 

She says the last moniker sickly sweet and his nostrils flare. “Say that louder, and you’ll get everyone’s attention.”

“What would you like me to call you then?”

He responds as quick as he can manage, “Ben. Just Ben.”

Rey looks taken aback like she’s unlocked a special ability on a video game, and he can’t pinpoint anything more annoying. “Now let me buy you a new bag, eat dinner with my best friend, and then I’ll take you home. Hell, if you complain about your feet enough, I’ll buy you a whole fucking shoe store just to show you I can do whatever I so choose.”

Then he continues walking, knowing she has no choice but to follow behind. He takes the opportunity to dial Poe, trying not to dwell on the fifty-three missed calls from various Palace staff. 

Holding the phone up to his ear, it only takes four rings for the man to answer.

There’s no hello, only a, “Tell me why Han called me to ask where you are.”

Ben scoffs, “Who knows. Want to have dinner? I have my assistant with me, and I want you to meet your girlfriend’s replacement.”

“Does she follow you around or something? And sure, meet you at Mozza at like five? I’ll make reservations.” 

“I’m not that insufferable, Poe. I just sorta took her hostage from the house.”

“Even better. What should I tell your mother if she calls?” His mother loves Poe for the sheer fact that Poe will rat out Ben any chance he gets. 

“I’m sure you’re going to tell her what you want to. That’ll work just fine.”

“Perfect. Stay safe, try not to draw much attention to yourself.”

“I’m a pro. I’ll see you at five.” Without waiting for a goodbye, he hangs up the phone and stops in his tracks in front of the Fendi store. It looks to be empty of customers, and he takes his sunglasses off. Rey reaches his side, and he leans and opens the door for her.

“Please don’t make me.”

She’s quietly pleading with her cheeks rosy red. Why is it the lushest sight he’s seen? It deserves to be hung up in the Louvre. God damn it, he’d give anything for her to be like that permanently. Ben wants to reach out to touch her chin, tip it up from the floor. He keeps his hands to himself. “You can’t convince me otherwise. Head in.”

She does as she’s told, almost like he’s asking her to hop into a six-foot deep hole and lay back. A sales attendant rushes like a moth to a flame, spying the red bottoms on her heels. “How can I help you two today?” She’s decked in all black, her blazer cut expertly and angularly. Her nametag reads Suriu, and she pushes her bright cherry red hair over her shoulder with a lick of her alike crimson lips.

This is the type of polished lady he’d like to see from Rey, not because he hates how she looks, but because he knows that she can achieve more. “Yes, I’m looking for a work tote for my assistant. Nothing too flashy, neutral-colored, red interior if you have it.” He’s already scanning for something that fits his specifications, and Suriu begins to lead the way to a collection of couches and armchairs around displays.

“I’ll pull a few styles, you can see them on the arm. Champagne?” Rey begins to shake her head, but Ben nods, Suriu hightails it to tell her other shop assistant the scoop. They must know who he is, he’s recognizable in the vicinity of Alderaan.

“I can’t drink on the job.”

“You’re off the clock.”

“Does that mean I can go home?”

He snorts and sits down, “Not exactly, now take a seat. You’re making me antsy.”

She sits, crossing her legs and setting her bag off to the side. Ben then hears her phone begin to vibrate, wrinkling his nose. “It’s going to be like that all day if I don’t call them back.”

She’s right, and Ben sighs. “Give me a moment.” He fishes his own phone out, luckily on silent, and sees the missed calls from his mother. Most would be shocked that his mother has a burner phone, given she contacts through email or the palace phones. The cellphone is specifically for him, Han, and the assistants.

He takes a measured breath before pressing to call her back, holding the phone up to his ear, and glancing around the Fendi store.

The line clicks, and there’s a slam of a door. Ben waits until “Where are you?”

He clicks his tongue, “I can’t tell you that mom.”

“You can, and you will. You didn’t have to storm out of lunch like that.” But he did because he can’t deal with the thought that he’s being set up to marry right before his eyes.

“You don’t...you won’t understand. I can’t make you understand.”

“Someday, you’re going to have to find someone that you’re going to want to spend the rest of your life with-”

“And you won’t approve because they won’t be a senator’s son or daughter. I’ve seen this movie before, it happened with Bazine.” He never brings her up, the girl who he fell in love with during his stint in the military. Bazine hadn’t been good enough to survive the royal speculation, breaking up with Ben shortly after he got back to his princely duties.

The severance was so hard on him that he never wants to do it again. “You need to try it. I assume you have your assistant with you?”

“I do.”

“But no security.” 

He takes a deep breath and whooshes out a “Yep.”

“You know better, Benjamin. Now, where should I send Chewie?”

He grumbles, “Not necessary.”

“Very necessary. You’re apart of the royal family of Alderaanian. You know how many extremists would be elated to kill you right now?” Nothing like a good mortality wakeup call.

He growls, “Fendi. He follows this time, I don’t want to see him.” Suriu is coming in hot with three bags and her other attendant holding the makings of two glasses of champagne. He makes his escape, “I have to go, bad reception coming up.”

“We’re not finished-”

“Oh no, you’re breaking up. Okthanksloveyoubye-” He hangs up the phone and makes sure it’s on silent. The champagne cork pops, and Rey looks even more nervous. 

He leans over, “Just play along. It’s easy.”

She shakes her head to herself and then sits on the edge of the couch. He’s shocked, but she reaches out her hands for one bag and doesn’t flinch when it’s set in her grip. “This is the Peekaboo, one of our classic silhouettes. We’ve had a lot of feedback from career women that say it can hold a laptop.”

“What kind of leather?” He’s a massive snob and won’t settle for Nubuck.

“Calf. This is the only one with a red interior that we could find.” 

Ben looks at the other two in her hands, then at Rey. She’s reaching for the other one and picking it up too. He sits back breezily and lets her weigh her options between the three bags. If he’s going by his preferences, he’d get the Peekaboo. The other basic black tote is too plain for his liking, and the third one seems to be too small for the things she carries. 

Predictably and correctly, she holds out the Peekaboo tote to him while sipping from her champagne. “Since you’re twisting my arm, I like this one the best.”

He raises his eyebrows and takes it from her, weighing it in his hands. The leather is baby soft on his skin, and he can’t help but immediately take a swig of champagne. 

“Good. We’ll take the same size in a brown as well.”

She chokes on her champagne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im trying to keep these updates shorter and more frequent, if you can't tell. i hope you enjoyed, remember that comments fuel me.
> 
> thoughts and feelings are welcome @ [twitter](https://twitter.com/dankobah) and [tumblr](https://dankobah.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> chapter title is inspired by ["getaway car" by taylor swift](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FhPLQVlUiNQ).
> 
> the list  
[porsche taycan](https://www.porsche.com/usa/models/taycan/taycan-models/taycan-turbo/?utm_source=google&utm_campaign=pcna_2019-09-09_fy19aon_taycan_core&utm_medium=paid&utm_term=brand&utm_content=ad&campaigntype=engagement&campaigncategory=brand_marketing&campaigntiming=sustain&campaignmodel=taycan&campaignmodeltype=new_car&displaycampaigntargeting=keyword&displaycampaignbuying=self-service&displaycampaignmetric=cpc&ds_rl=1267923&gclid=CjwKCAjw3c_tBRA4EiwAICs8CrsGDBjKNg6vSBvpEqy3QhmapM8stRey2f3v-jiGW2Fxxrw2LnHaghoCBPoQAvD_BwE&gclsrc=aw.ds)  
[what does Ben's regalia look like? (picture it in blue)](https://www.marieclaire.com/fashion/a20144871/prince-harry-royal-wedding-outfit/)  
[louboutins](http://us.christianlouboutin.com/us_en/shop/women/so-kate-5.html)  
[moscot glasses](https://www.lunigal.com/sunglasses/moscot-lemtosh-s-t46-matte_black-g15_lens-2348-17075.html)  
[black and red peekaboo](https://www.fendi.com/us/woman/bags/p-8BN304A5E8F13X3)  
[brown peekaboo](https://www.fendi.com/us/brown-leather-bag/p-8BN304A5E9F1QTQ?gclid=CjwKCAjw3c_tBRA4EiwAICs8CtMnP3sqsufYIJoQZ34wcf3Hy_73lXd0fb_2j2pFkpJUZvzgNUt0JhoCsLIQAvD_BwE&gclsrc=aw.ds)


	3. 'cause all the boys and their expensive cars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She’s so furious that she blurts out, “Do you have a foot fetish or some shit?” 
> 
> A hand flies to her mouth after she says it, appalled at herself, and instantly worried about her job. Fuck, what if he fires her? She can’t help but begin shaking her head, “I’m so so so sorry, Prince Organa-”
> 
> He begins to laugh, not mitigating her fears. “Didn’t I say to call me Ben? And last I checked, I don’t think I do.”
> 
> He steps closer to her, and all she can do is stare up at him, at honeyed brown eyes that feel unreasonably kind despite the accusation and underlying steeliness. **“I just have a fetish for nice things. Women included.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **tags**   
referenced tough childhood  
exorbitant money spending  
alcohol consumption  
pregnancy mention (poor kaydel)

Rey is tipsy off champagne by the time they walk out with the purses. 

The paper bag that holds them is massive, overtaking most of her arm. She insisted on carrying it, mainly to do her job but also to take uninterrupted peeks inside. She can’t believe he bought them, two of them, just for her. 

She had barely noticed his sneer at the way she carried her canvas tote still, unwilling to unload it until they get to the safe confines of the car where she can’t lose anything. Hell, she doesn’t even notice that she’s limping from her shoes at this point. That is until his hand comes out in front of her to stop her in her tracks.

“What? What’s wrong?” She’s worried, looking around for the culprit of his sudden stop. Ben reaches under her legs and lifts her bridal style, causing her to yelp and kick her feet. 

‘What are you doing?! Put me down!” He keeps walking despite her wriggling, the bag bumping against his front as she scrambles to take it closer into her arms. She’s determined to keep these purchases safe, given Ben hiding the price from her at every step in the transaction. Hell, she could just go home and look it up online if she cared. She only knows she’ll definitely faint when she sees it.

“You’re limping.”

“Okay, and?! That doesn’t mean you can just pick me up.”

The car chirps, and to appease her; he puts her down right next to the door. “Switch out your bag. We’re going to buy you new shoes.” She feels the color drain from her face, eye twitching as she watches him. 

“Uh...no we’re not.” 

“Yes we are, I’m not dealing with a limping assistant all of dinner. I would make you wear Kaydel’s shoes, but I don’t know if you’re the same size as her.”

She’s so furious that she blurts out, “Do you have a foot fetish or some shit?” 

A hand flies to her mouth after she says it, appalled at herself, and instantly worried about her job. Fuck, what if he fires her? She can’t help but begin shaking her head, “I’m so so so sorry, Prince Organa-”

He begins to laugh, not mitigating her fears. “Didn’t I say to call me Ben? And last I checked, I don’t think I do.”

He steps closer to her, and all she can do is stare up at him, at honeyed brown eyes that feel unreasonably kind despite the accusation and underlying steeliness. “I just have a fetish for nice things. Women included.” 

She stutters, trying to find words to wisecrack back, to take away the tension. Then he quirks his brow, “Now switch out your purse and let’s go. I’m not compromising on this.” She huffs before opening the passenger door and sliding in. She removes the black purse from the shopping bag, chucking the bright yellow bag in the backseat. Then she begins meticulously moving everything from her tote bag to the leather monstrosity in her lap.

Once she’s done organizing it, noting how it’s barely full, she gets out of the car with it over her arm. He looks her up and down and smiles to himself, a split second before masking back to serious. “Very impressive. You clean up well, Johnson.”

“Let’s just get this shoe shit over with.”

“Lucky for you, it’s a two-minute walk. Can you make it without limping?”

Sass inside of her pops out, “Fuck off.” 

She starts walking the way they came to the car, but he whistles. That grabs her attention, and she nearly runs to catch up with him going the opposite direction. She tries to match his long strides, keeping her head focused on the “heel, toe” mantra she always repeated while she wears heels. They reach Christian Louboutin in no time at all, and he makes a point of opening the door. The saleswoman here is heartbreakingly pretty as well, a buxom blonde with baby blue eyes. She’s dressed smartly in a black sheath dress, wearing Louboutins herself. Her name tag reads Tanua, and she descends like a hawk upon a mouse.

“Can I help you two with anything in particular?”

Ben takes the lead, “Looking for a pair of flats. Basic black, no studding. Also, I want to see a pair of nude Pigalles on her. Size thirty-eight.” Rey takes the cue to sit down, setting her bag off to the side. She might as well accept that he’s going to do what he so chooses, regardless of how much she pouts about it.

“Right away.” Tanua shuffles away, and Ben plops down right next to her. 

“I’m shocked she didn’t offer champagne.”

She shakes her head to herself, “I don’t think I can handle anymore.”

“We’re getting a bottle of wine at dinner, so you better be ready for more by then. Though Poe and I have polished off five of them before.”

She can’t help but mumble, “I hate rich people.”

His eyebrow quirks, and he nudges her gently, “What are you, Robin Hood?”

She retorts, “Perhaps. What if I just sell these shoes in two days? How would you feel?” 

He shrugs, “They’re a gift so you can do whatever you want. Plus, I’d just buy you more, can’t get off that easy.” She rolls her eyes to herself, knowing her fate as a luxury clothes owner is sealed.

Tanua comes back with two boxes, “Our flat is Ballalla flat. Very basic and comfortable once broken in.” She opens the box delicately and pulls out a shoe. Rey tries not to look at her feet when sliding it out of the heel she’s already wearing, but she fails, and she’s blistered up beyond belief. 

She slides it into the flat, and there’s a little relief on the ball of her foot and the arch, not contorted into a sky-high position any longer. She whispers, “Please don’t make me take this off; it feels so good.” 

He chuckles to himself before looking at Tanua. “We’ll take those, and I’m sure she can try on the Pigalles when she gets home.” She notices his language, how he’s careful about being clear about the division between them. 

Rey puts on the other flat, putting her heels in the box and staying seated while he pays for their rendezvous. That’s when she takes the opportunity to look at her phone. She bypasses all the missed calls and emails for the texts from Rose.

* * *

**| Rose - 15:03 |**

you and the prince ran off together? how scandalous

**| Rose - 15:45 |**

what are you guys doing? im gonna assume the worst

* * *

Rey wants to text something snarky back, but she holds off in opt for paying attention to Ben paying for the shoes. She narrows her eyes to try to see a price on the boxes, to no avail. She then stands, wandering over next to him while shucking her purse over her shoulders. 

He’s grabbing the receipt while she does, Tanua bagging up the boxes. “You ready to eat after this? I’m thinking of Italian food, a little red wine, the works. Fuck, we could even take a walk around the city if you’re up to it.”

She shrugs, “Anything is fine by me.” She’d like to go home, maybe crawl into bed and forget the day, but she’s committed to having fun no matter what, even if it’s with an out of touch prince and his friends.

He takes the bag, and she wants to snatch it from him, given that she’s the assistant. He walks away before she can, and she scurries after, being careful of scuffing her shoes too much. Ben continues walking in the direction of the car, his long legs carrying him faster than she could ever dream. “Does it have to be red wine?” Rey’s not a wine snob by any means, and she prefers a Redbull vodka when she has the option. 

He glances back. “It’s a crowd-pleaser, but I’ll take suggestions.” She hums in thought. Is there anything that’s just as classy as red wine that would please a prince? He’s probably a snob, buying sixty dollar bottles without a sweat. Or, shocker, even more.

The Porsche chirps and Rey shoulders in, Ben is tossing her shoe bag in the backseat and then focusing on her. “Uh, maybe champagne?”

“I typically use champagne to celebrate. What are we celebrating?”

She shrugs, “Buying new Louboutins.”

He clicks his tongue, “I like the way you think, Johnson. Give me a second to call Poe, and we’ll be on our way.” He’s fishing out his cellphone, and she sits tight while he dials the man.

“Just got finished shopping, you ready for this dinner?”

There’s a long pause, and he hums, “I see, I see. I hope she feels better then.”

He fucks with his thumbnail as he waits. “You’re fine. You’ll meet her eventually. No rush, right?”

Rey finds herself twiddling her thumbs, even as he hangs up the phone and plugs in something to the GPS. “Are they coming?”

“Kaydel’s got some stomach thing happening. Also, she’s pregnant and just doesn’t want to go outside. I don’t blame her. So Poe is gonna stay with her.”

She can’t help but let her heart sink; she was foolishly looking forward to meeting his friend and seeing the girl who helped her get hired once more. Rey owes Kaydel a lot, even if it’s only for the next seven and a half months. A stable job is no joke, especially one that’s turning out to be comically easy today. 

“Oh well, that’s okay.”

“We’re still going out to dinner.”

She’s shocked and can’t help but let her jaw go a little slack. “What else are we gonna do? Go back? Not on my watch.”

Maybe he makes a good point, but she can’t help but feel her stomach flip over, knowing that they’re going out to dinner  _ alone _ . It’s like a date, only with your employer. Is this normal? Should she get used to something like this?

“Besides, food is instrumental to a person’s happiness.”

“You make a good point.”

“I always make good points, Rey. It’s my job to make good points.”

👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑

The restaurant is more of a romantic trap than she could’ve predicted, and Rey can’t help but look around in absolute bewilderment. There are candles on the table, lowlighting near the back of the restaurant. He requested a table specifically near the end for privacy reasons, and she feels like a first date.

Especially when he glances over the edge of his menu, watching her try to decide on the list of fancy champagnes. “Avoid looking at the prices.”

She glances up at him, and he shuts his menu. “It’s on me.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t be fiscally smart.”

He growls, “Fuck fiscal responsibility. Let me pay in peace.”

She raises her brows before pushing the menu to him. “You pick then.” It’s impossible not to think of what else you could do with a hundred dollars. 

He takes up the menu and starts reviewing it, and she can almost imagine glasses on the bridge of his nose as he studies. Then he snaps it shut and sets the menu between them. “You see? Not that hard.”

“Don’t be mean to me; it’s hard to choose when its not my hard-earned money.” 

Ben hums while sitting back in his chair, “Have to play hard if you work hard, in my opinion. Life is too short just to sit and not spend money.”

“That is the exact mentality I would expect from a rich person, believe me.”

“I like seeing people get rewarded for all that they do. If that’s in the form of a hundred dollar bottle of champagne, then so be it.” The waiter is taking their time, and she just wants alcohol inside of her, so her legs stop bouncing in nerves. 

“What food are you getting?” He sips his water, and she can’t help but shrug with little care. She inhales anything put in front of her, from restaurant bread to sheep guts. She makes a point of picking up the menu and cracking it open. She avoids the prices like he’s demanded.

“What’s it like to be so indecisive?” She rolls her eyes to herself and decides on classic spaghetti and meatballs, tossing the menu back on the table as the waitress flits by. 

“Bottle of your Louis Roederer Cristal, then surprise me with a bottle of your finest red wine as well.” He’s a matter of fact as he orders, and the waitress walks away knowing she’s about to get an extravagant tip on just the drinks alone. Rey’s glad she took the menu with her so she couldn’t double-check the cost and puke everywhere. 

Ben watches her across the table, elbow on the table with his chin in his hand. She keeps her eyes down on her napkin covered lap. “I have a couple of trips coming up in the next few weeks-”

“One to Coruscant, another to Tattooine, and then finally Mustafar.”

“How did you know?”

“Who do you think scheduled them? Bought the flights, rented the cars, et cetera?”

He hums as he sits back, “Clever girl, but I bet you don’t know about the one to Naboo that I’m getting ready to plan.”

That takes her by surprise, and he seems satisfied with that. “Can I do anything for you, sir?”

“Organize the flight.” That means getting on the phone with the royals’ private airline, which is always fun when you’re not of the status. She’s reaching into her tote bag on the back of her chair, grabbing the paper agenda, and cracking it open to the monthly view of two months from now.

“What dates were you thinking?”

“Are you working, Miss Johnson?”

She feels her cheeks grow hot and moves to shut the agenda, “I thought that’s what we were doing. Forgive me.”

“So efficient. Do you ever stop?” The quick answer is no. Even when Rey is trying to sleep, she’s always thinking of the next day she works. It’s a curse, being a workaholic and worried about fucking up your new job. 

She shakes her head and tucks her agenda back into her bag, crossing her legs over each other, and the waitress comes back around with champagne lodged in an ice bucket and the bottle of wine in her other grip. Someone else follows with glasses, and the cork pops. They watch each other while the drinks are poured, wondering who will make the first move with ordering. He bites, ordering a  _ rare _ ten-ounce steak. She feels like a basic bitch with her spaghetti and meatballs and decides to throw in mozzarella sticks at the last minute. 

“So admittedly,” he starts, swirling his wine around the glass before inhaling the bouquet, “I don’t know much about your past work history.”

Rey feels the bubbles from the champagne go to her head, avoiding the red wine that was poured for her. She figures she’d enjoy it more with food. “I used to be a mechanic in Jakku.” Before that, she scrounged for food in a foster home and barely got a liveable education. 

“What’s your alma mater?”

Sore subject. She’s lucky that a college degree wasn’t required for this job. “I uh...I don’t have one. I never went to higher education.”

He looks concerned, and she wishes she just lied, made something up. “Would you like to do that at some point?”

Rey shrugs, “If I could afford it, sure. I just don’t know what I would go for, and I can already fix most machinery.”

He looks speculative, and she avoids his eyes at that, sipping from her champagne to occupy the silence. Then Ben sits back and assesses his glasses of champagne and red wine. “Interesting, could you let me know when you’re trying to go? If you ever do.”

Her head cocks, “If it pleases you.” 

“It very well would, thank you.”

👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑

Rey is shocked that she’s even walking, given the amount of wine and champagne and pasta that’s inside of her. Ben is supporting her arm as they wait for valet, but that can’t count against her, can it? 

“You’re shivering.”

She thought the sandy tan trench coat she’d been wearing since they mad dashed from the house would warm her up, but no such luck befalls her. Rey nods, noting her chattering teeth too. Aren’t drunk people supposed to get warm?

Her head is so fuzzy, and words come out without willing them, “Please don’t let your mother see me like this.” The car pulls up in front of them, and Ben hands over his card to pay for the valet, receiving the keys in the same swap. He helps walk her to her side of the car, opening up the door and assisting her in getting low enough (without showing up her skirt) to get in the car.

Then he slams the door shut, walking back to the valet to tip. He comes back to the car and gets in, starting it up and quickly pulling out into traffic. Rey feels her head spin, but it’s the right kind of headspin. 

“Don’t puke in my car.”

She chastises him, “I’m not. You know better.”

The engine revs as the light turns green, and they jump forward. “I want you to wear those nude Louboutins for me tomorrow.”

“Of course.” Who is she to deny him right now? His demands are turning into a game of cat and mouse, and she wants to see how far he’ll push her. 

“We’re doing charity work tomorrow, so keep the outfit lowkey. But I want those Louboutins on you.”

The words leave her mouth before she can think of how they sound, “Yes, sir.” Way to mimic a BDSM dungeon on her part, she hopes to God he doesn’t take it as flirty. Is it even intended to be flirty?

He is charming underneath the moonlight, all long lashes and dark, broody eyes-

He takes it even better than hoped, “I told you to call me Ben. Is that hard?”

She smiles, “No, Ben, it’s not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this feels like filler because it is. get ready for more fun next chapter, and leave a comment because they're nice 🎀👑
> 
> thoughts and feelings are welcome @ [twitter](https://twitter.com/dankobah) and [tumblr](https://dankobah.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> chapter title is inspired by ["king of my heart" by taylor swift](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1dmQXMGz7dE)
> 
> _the list_   
[porsche taycan](https://www.porsche.com/usa/models/taycan/taycan-models/taycan-turbo/)   
[louboutin Ballalla Flat](http://us.christianlouboutin.com/us_en/shop/women/ballalla-flat.html)   
[nude pigalles](http://us.christianlouboutin.com/us_en/shop/women/pigalle.html)   
[Louis Roederer Cristal Brut](https://www.wine.com/product/louis-roederer-cristal-brut-with-gift-box-2008/427652?state=CA&s=GoogleBase_CSE_427652_63&utm_source=google&utm_medium=cpc&utm_term=&utm_campaign=Google_Shopping_CA_Alpha&gclid=Cj0KCQjw9fntBRCGARIsAGjFq5Httrh4r3ZmyN5kgzaN9lkEb1aJIJf-Aeid_zVbsw56IZ9vzszwLU4aAjMqEALw_wcB&gclsrc=aw.ds#promoBarModal)   
[what red wine did he end up with?](https://www.wine.com/product/chateau-mouton-rothschild-top-shoulder-1988/21261)


	4. it's nice to have a friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She rolls her eyes, “I dress just fine, alright? I don’t get why you think I’m some blind ass bat in the dark.”
> 
> Ben shuffles across the room to stand by her bed. “I’m not compromising.”
> 
> “Admit I have good fashion sense.”
> 
> **“It could be better.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _tags i guess?_  
there really are none  
closeted character (ben is bisexual)  
poe dameron  
money spending out the wazoo

His mother certainly got back at him for his running off scheme, and it was in the form of  _ women _ .

No men, because while she is accepting, the general public would be shocked to know that Prince Benjamin Organa likes guys as well. It’d be a mindfuck for most, and he’s just seeking a place to be alone right now, rather than shack up with someone he can barely talk to.

He’s been presented with senators’ daughters, prime ministers’ daughters, legislators’ daughters, almost any type of girl in his grasp. He’s been out to countless lunches, pulled god knows how many chairs back, poured so many glasses of wine, and yet all of them were fruitless. They were either incompatible with his interests or utterly disinterested in anything he had to say in opt for the bragging rights of going out to lunch with a prince.

And the sad thing is, during each tiny date, he thought of Rey. He thought of her running down the halls with her little agenda, making calls for his charity, serving herself tea. She would wrinkle her nose at some of these women, or simply give the most dumbfounded stare.

She’s been on edge for the past few weeks, organizing these impromptu dates and his travels on top of it. He’s got at least three out of the country events he has to attend with his mother. His father has managed to get out of it, deciding to fly off to some squeaky clean horse race. Ben doubts that’s what his father is actually doing, but they’ve decided to pretend he can be trusted this week.

Ben, rather than getting invited to the fun horse race, is required to attend galas and lunches and all sorts of events with Leia. Plus, be on his best behavior while looking for a wife to shack up with at a spectacle wedding in the future. Ben’s been stressed beyond belief about it, so it’s translated to online shopping to the umpteenth degree. It means permanent tabs open to the luxury sites, contacts for gowns, tailors on speed-dial. Not for him, obviously, but for Rey.

He knows Rey’s shoe size, but the rest of her is an absolute mystery. He knows he should’ve looked through her closet when he dropped her off at her room drunk that night, but that feels invasive even for someone like him. There’s no easy way to get her measurements that he can divine, so he goes for the kill.

He texts her to come down to the court in the middle of his tennis game, Poe lobbing multiple balls at him as he does. The man comes out for tennis at least three times a week; it’s their way of shooting the shit while getting a decent workout in. Ben exercises at least six days a week, using his seventh as a rest day. The key to not getting sore is to change up what activities he does every day, using different muscle groups.

He spots Rey in the distance, carrying her agenda with a sunny yellow long-sleeved dress. It’s more of a flared style of skirt, so it doesn’t hug her shape in the way her black sheath dress did yesterday. But it’s very Rey all the same. The tennis court is set down near a small hill, and she’s lucky there’s a sidewalk to accommodate the nude Louboutins on her feet. They must’ve been a last-minute addition since he didn’t see them on her this morning. She makes it to the tennis court, leaning down and setting the agenda on top of the navy blue clay court. 

Ben’s forgotten his lack of shirt until now, but he doesn’t scramble for it. Her sunglasses hide her eyes, so she’s probably not looking at him. “Poe, this is Rey.” Poe stops packing up and rushes over, holding out his hand to her to shake. 

Rey takes it, and they shake, “Nice to finally meet you.”

“You as well. Thank you for taking over my girlfriend’s job.” Poe is shorter than Rey when she wears her Louboutins, and Ben is reaching inside of his duffle for the measuring tape. Maybe he’s a little vain, but he measures himself quite a bit. Simple things like his biceps or waist so he can keep his suits up to date.

“Lift your arms, Rey.”

She whips around to stare at him, then at the measuring tape. She then takes off her sunglasses, squinting at him. “What is that?”

“I have to order your gown for a political gala in Coruscant.” Her eyes widen, and his eyebrows rise. 

“Can’t I just-”

He answers for her, “You don’t know what kind of gown you’re looking for.”

She inhales deeply, and he can sense an argument brewing. Instead, Rey throws her sunglasses in her hand next to her agenda. Then she holds out her hand. “I’d like to measure myself, and I’ll give you the measurements.”

A good compromise. He hands over the tape gladly and gets out his phone to take note. Poe glances between them a few times before zipping up his racket bag and duffle. “As much as I love the  _ Phantom Thread  _ film, I’ll leave you guys to it.”

Ben rolls his eyes, and Rey calls out thirty-two for her bust measurement.

It’s time to pay attention.

👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑

Rey should’ve known when she was giving him her measurements of what she was getting herself into.

Based on the way he traipsed into her room with boxes upon boxes three nights later, he had ordered more than just a gown. Rey had been snug in bed, on her laptop, and finalizing some Mustafarian volcano hike with the acting king’s son, when he came in.

This time he wasn’t drunk, and he was wearing a shirt thankfully. Though the sweatpants and thick socks scream ultra-casual, mimicking her look. Once he’s all done bringing boxes from down the hall, he shuts her door and leans up against it.

He’s in her space, sober this time. And surprisingly, she’s not super pissed about it. Though he looks like a guilty little boy right now, and he clears his throat. “So we leave for our two-week tour in two days.” 

She’s been aware of their D-day, in staff meetings about it all week. Rey has been harassing Rose, who’s been running like a chicken with her head cut off with Korr. It’s Rey’s first trip with the royals, and the amount of shit she’s had to think of last-minute has been mind-boggling. She’s trying her hardest to stay afloat, and Ben has mostly been a lifesaver and doing a lot of his charity work to help her out. It also makes him scarce around the house.

“And I wanted to pack with you to make sure you look media-ready.” Rey sucks in a deep breath and shakes her head to herself.

“I was going to pack tomorrow. I pack light regardless.” She’s not even ready to think about the number of boxes that surround her. He can’t have bought that many things for her.

“You’re not packing light on this trip. Media are going to be all over us, and I want you to make a best-dressed list.”

She rolls her eyes, “I dress just fine, alright? I don’t get why you think I’m some blind ass bat in the dark.”

Ben shuffles across the room to stand by her bed. “I’m not compromising.”

“Admit I have good fashion sense.”

“It could be better.”

She’s determined to prove him wrong, so she hops up. “Put together an outfit for me, and I’ll fix it to where I like it.”

He glances her up and down before turning and opening one of the boxes. Every garment looks to be unpackaged already, so she heads to her closet and rifles through her selection. She has to bring her A-game to the personal style table.

His outfit is ready when she walks out, and Rey feels her stomach roll at the obvious designer labels. The Gucci belt is the first thing that grabs her attention, along with the Yves Saint Laurent tote bag set off to the side. The whole outfit is black, and she shakes her head to herself.

“Needs color.”

“There’s nothing wrong with black.” 

“Also, those pants look like parachute pants.”

“They’re a wide leg. Since you have longer legs, I thought-”

Rey walks back into her closet and grabs a pair of grey tweed ankle pants and her matching blazer. She had gotten the set a couple of weeks ago, and she knows it’ll pair well with the sleeveless black top. She tosses the old pants away and throws a pair of Louboutins with the ensemble. The Gucci belt remains, just for him.

Ben assesses her handiwork, and Rey huffs a breath, “You see?”

“Not bad, but I do think you in all black would look simply stunning.” Her eyebrow quirks, and he shrugs.

“Maybe you can pack for yourself, but I’d still love to watch.”

Rey bites her lip while shaking her head, “No chance, your highness. But I’ll keep you in mind as I do.” 

Then she flashes a winning smile that makes even his meanest scowl crack.

👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑

As predicted, the day of leaving is a stressful shitshow.

Sure, he and Leia fly private with minimal staff, but it’s still a production like none other. All the security sweeps and waiting around would make any normal person antsy. Rey is sadly included in that group.

She looks smart, at least, wearing a mock neck navy dress that goes to her knees. Ben recognizes the leather jacket draped on her shoulders as something he’s purchased, a heady pride growing in his chest. She taps her flat covered foot at thew news that their private flight is delayed for the weather. They’re not dangerously delayed (they’ll unfortunately still make their peace and reconciliation dinner with the Hutts).

She’s still antsy though as she waits right across from him on the plane, legs crossed, and her hands are fiddling with themselves. Ben would normally get to stretch out to the other seat, and he contemplated asking for her to move, but he knows it would read as being too much of a dick. 

“You don’t want to be in the air. It’s dreadfully boring when we are.”

“I could sleep at least.” Ah, the dark circles under her eyes. How could he forget that she didn’t sleep the night before? He ran into her stress-eating a pint of ice cream at four AM. He vowed not to mention it, but it encapsulates the stress well. 

He cracks a joke, “I don’t think I allowed sleeping on this flight, Miss Johnson.” They’re around other people, so the Rey and Ben they’ve grown accustomed to is a little informal for the setting. Occasionally she’ll throw in “your highness” to mock him when they keep it loose.

She doesn’t find his joke funny, clear by her exasperation, “Prince Organa, I’m exhausted.” 

He hums and looks out the window at the torrential downpour that patters outside. “Take a nap now; we’re not exactly moving.”

“I can’t deal with the noises outside.” A light sleeper? He glances between her and his backpack before unzipping it and reaching inside. Rifling around between all of his random essentials, he finds his noise-canceling headphones. Pulling them out, he offers them to her.

Rey takes them delicately and plugs them into her phone. He stands up, turning off the overhead light above their seats. He ducks away to speak to the perky brunette flight attendant with a low cadence, “Can I potentially borrow a blanket?”

She’s overly helpful and gets him his blanket with a wide smile, making sure her hands linger on the handoff. Damn him for being a prince, and he’s always gonna be chum in shark-infested waters. He shoulders past the flight attendant and holds out the blanket to Rey, who’s already blissed out in la-la-land. 

When she doesn’t stir, he quietly spreads the fabric over her and plops back down in her sleep.

He doesn’t know how long he watches her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these chapters are shorter, therefore easier. i hope the quality doesn't suck :(, but leave a comment if you liked it!
> 
> thoughts and feelings are welcome @ [twitter](https://twitter.com/dankobah) and [tumblr](https://dankobah.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> chapter title is inspired by ["its nice to have a friend" by taylor swift](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=chNF5QDIq_M).
> 
> the list:  
[nude louboutins](http://us.christianlouboutin.com/us_en/shop/women/pigalle.html)  
[yellow dress (i dont know why this is 837 dollars, forever 21 would make a copy of that instantly)](https://www.neimanmarcus.com/p/escada-blouson-sleeve-jacquard-fit-flare-midi-dress-prod220160448?childItemId=NMB4VWT_&navpath=cat000000_cat000001_cat58290731_cat43810733_cat30870735&page=0&position=0&uuid=PDP_PAGINATION_c81aed79c915f2c64648649e704b6f2b_7BcjMBwXsrwdI3CcNb3ZIfMFVDv4QwMGAmzKIlgz.jsession)  
[wide leg pants](https://www.neimanmarcus.com/p/ripley-rader-high-rise-wide-leg-ponte-pants-prod221390188?childItemId=NMTYWBE_&navpath=cat000000_cat000001_cat58290731_cat17740752&page=0&position=0&uuid=PDP_PAGINATION_46f2decf216923a07a277d5fc823904c_7BcjMBwXsrwdI3CcNb3ZIfMFVDv4QwMGAmzKIlgz.jsession)  
[black top](https://www.neimanmarcus.com/p/a-l-c-dallas-sleeveless-collared-keyhole-top-prod223740305?childItemId=NMTZB2B_&navpath=cat000000_cat000001_cat58290731_cat42960827_cat41240742&page=0&position=44&uuid=PDP_PAGINATION_24515b3c43241190d97e12a43b024ad6_7BcjMBwXsrwdI3CcNb3ZIfMFVDv4QwMGAmzKIlgz.jsession)  
[gucci belt](https://www.neimanmarcus.com/p/gucci-logo-embossed-leather-belt-black-prod224100017?childItemId=NMD2KYP_&navpath=cat000000_cat4870731_cat51730760_cat4300731&page=0&position=2&uuid=PDP_PAGINATION_b037ba6c88be21bf77ce871773716ce3_7BcjMBwXsrwdI3CcNb3ZIfMFVDv4QwMGAmzKIlgz.jsession)  
[saint laurent tote](https://www.neimanmarcus.com/p/saint-laurent-east-west-shopping-tote-bag-prod179510131?childItemId=NMV2K0M_&navpath=cat000000_cat000730_cat6340738_cat7040731&page=0&position=28&uuid=PDP_PAGINATION_b48d60f8a37d535968638485e1a7bb51_7BcjMBwXsrwdI3CcNb3ZIfMFVDv4QwMGAmzKIlgz.jsession)  
[grey pants](https://bananarepublic.gap.com/browse/product.do?pid=493068002&rrec=true&mlink=5050,12413545,brproduct1_rr_3&clink=12413545#pdp-page-content)  
[grey blazer](https://bananarepublic.gap.com/browse/product.do?pid=526375002&cid=1090695&pcid=87056&vid=1&grid=pds_23_65_1#pdp-page-content)  
[leather jacket](https://www.neimanmarcus.com/p/paige-dita-leather-moto-jacket-prod224991263?childItemId=NMTZMJF_&navpath=cat000000_cat000001_cat58290731_cat72830742_cat47080731&page=0&position=17&uuid=PDP_PAGINATION_c592ebfbd6aeaa9926ea3c431662cd38_7BcjMBwXsrwdI3CcNb3ZIfMFVDv4QwMGAmzKIlgz.jsession)  
[navy mock neck dress](https://www.lulus.com/products/midnight-in-paris-navy-blue-long-sleeve-dress/521302.html?utm_source=google&utm_medium=cpc&utm_content=521302&utm_campaign=PLA_cocktail-dresses&pla=1&s_kwcid=AL%217824%213%21337857861739%21%21%21g%2174864539709%21&gclid=Cj0KCQiA2ITuBRDkARIsAMK9Q7NYIvumK1kKjq_f3pbbNyW4LvSsCRHUUhYaRZ5j98E9HeQ4jBxONDEaArftEALw_wcB)  
[bonus shoe mention for the airplane](http://us.christianlouboutin.com/us_en/shop/women/so-kate-5.html)


	5. say you'll remember me (red lips and rosy cheeks)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He snorts,”You’ll understand when you meet them. They’re vile, and don’t try to disguise it.” 
> 
> “You know I would cancel it if I were allowed to.”
> 
> “That you would. Kaydel would never, but you…” He glances her up and down, and she feels her cheeks warm as their drinks are set before them.
> 
> “You’re a little rebel. I like that in my women.”
> 
> _His women._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **tags**  
exorbitant money spending  
polo  
alcohol consumption

Dinner was a disaster.

That much is apparent when he storms past her to the car, his mother far behind and not trying to catch up to him. Ben is ripping off his regalia before Rey can even get in the backseat with him, Chewie delegated to the front seat. The driver is hired.

Rey is used to Chewie there, though he’s less playful and more on high alert when they’re abroad, especially in a territory like Tatooine. She takes her sweet ass time getting in the car, knowing Ben is steaming over. 

Once she shuts the door, they jolt forward. Rey takes the opportunity to collect the little medals Ben’s ripping off of him, dropping each one in her purse and watching his thick chest heave. He’s stripping down as much as he possibly can.

“Hutt Slayer, like my mother would know their stupid fucking king would be guilty of corruption. God, fuck this.” He bites down hard on his lip and finally looks to Rey.

“We’re going out.”

She raises her eyebrows, “Out? If you mean back to the hotel-”

“No, I mean out. Chewie, find us a bar.”

No, no, no. The amount of security they’ll need if they go out into the city is exorbitant and Rey thinks of taxpayer dollars. Rey thinks fast, “Sir, if I may suggest we go to the hotel bar-”

“Why? So my mother can wander in and chew me out? You probably work together.”

She shakes her head, “I don’t talk to your mother often. What about my room?” It’s highly inappropriate to offer up your room to your boss, especially for the purpose of drinking oneself into a stupor to forget about the social faux-pas of others. 

He stops his shaking in its tracks, and the car idles at a stoplight. Rey watches the lights of the police escort in front of them while he answers, “I want an Adios Motherfucker inside of me, and I don’t think a hotel bar can do that.”

Her retort is automatic, “They’ll do anything for you. You’re a prince, and I don’t think you want to be followed by three or four security detail at a bar.”

“You’re assuming I can’t blend in-”

“I am **not **compromising your safety, Ben.” 

That makes him pause, long enough for her to lean over the front seat and demand, “Drive us back to the hotel.” Ben doesn’t look at her the rest of the way, clearly pouting about not getting his way,

Rey takes charge, “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to the hotel, and we’re getting two drinks each. Then you will go up to your room and _ stay _there until tomorrow morning when you have your polo match with the Hutts-”

“Cancel it.”

“I’m not going to do that because as much as they fucked up tonight, they do not seem like the people who you want under your skin.” 

“Do what I say-”

“Or what?” 

They stare each other down, and she sucks in a deep breath to puff out her metaphorical chest. “I do things for your benefit, and trust me, this will benefit you.” He visibly pouts now, and the car slows to a stop behind the Tatooine hotel the entire entourage is staying in. Media has been camped out in front of it, and Rey appreciates the privacy by proxy. Of course, she knows she’s in the world media in photo form, but there’s never any speculation as to who she could be.

They don’t want to raise questions or potential rumors; Kaydel was thought to be his girlfriend until Ben vehemently shot that down when she fell pregnant. Rey has heard no such stories yet, though she doesn’t pay attention to what the media says about her. Ben seemingly does, given he gives more of a shit about her fashion sense.

Rey gets out of the car. Ben follows her begrudgingly, shoving his way past her and into the building. He’s angry, and she follows anyway. He’s stalking instead of walking, and Chewie has managed to get out in front of him to clear any potential threats. Staying in hotels with the royals is a practice in patience. 

They walk straight through the lobby, Ben making a beeline for the bar to keep Chewie on his toes. Rey contemplates just going upstairs, but he did want to take her initially.

He’s sitting at the bar as she wanders into the red velvet and golden colored bar, looking more like a Moulin Rouge-esque sex dungeon than anything fit for royalty. Hell, the bar stools are a luxurious black leather that squeaks when she sits next to him. Chewie has kept his post at the entrance of the nearly empty bar; it’s too early to party.

Whatever attention they do draw is ignored, and the bartender makes a beeline. Ben is efficient; the card held out, “Open a tab and get me two tequila shots.” Rey is reaching for her ID when she’s ignored. As someone who’s only twenty-two, she doesn’t know how to feel about not being carded.

She doesn’t know how to feel about the tequila shots, either. Rey takes a sideways glance at him before sitting back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest. Her tolerance isn’t horrible, but a tequila shot will push her into a tipsy territory. 

For him, it’ll probably just rinse his mouth out. The shots are set before the two of them. That’s when Ben turns to her, picking it up and holding it out in a “cheers” motion. She ignores him and takes the shot without the assistance of salt, the tequila going down with a sickly sweet burn that puts hair on her chest. She bites into the provided lime and lets the sour tang of citrus soothe her mouth.

She chews and chews on the lime as he takes his shot before she spits it out onto the plate and coughs. She sucks her teeth and shivers, leaning her head on her hand while her elbow settles on the bar top. Ben takes his shot like a champ, sucking on his lime and giving her sideways glances.

Rey crosses her legs, prim and proper, and determined to hold her own against his disarming nature.

“Miss Johnson-”

“It’s Rey. You know that.” He nods to himself.

“I deeply apologize for being a brat. It’s unkind of me to make your job impossible.”

She looks over and glances him up and down. Rey made sure to put a bar seat between them, keeping her distance from the prince like she’s been trained to do. Ben answers the space between them by moving over right next to her.

“Please forgive me.”

Rey looks to the bartender, who’s trying to act as if he isn’t eavesdropping. She clicks her tongue, “Can we get two Adios Motherfuckers?” The bartender gets started on them without another word, and Ben plays with the peel of his lime. 

Rey decides to appease, “I’m sorry you have to do something with the Hutts tomorrow.”

He snorts,”You’ll understand when you meet them. They’re vile, and don’t try to disguise it.” 

“You know I would cancel it if I were allowed to.”

“That you would. Kaydel would never, but _ you _…” He glances her up and down, and she feels her cheeks warm as their drinks are set before them.

“You’re a little rebel. I like that in my women.”

_ His women._

If she could blush anymore, she would be beet red from head to toe. 

Rey holds out her glass with the bright blue liquid to distract, and they clink. 

👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑

She thought it would be muddier, but brown still slicks her Christian Louboutin boots as they walk onto the edge of the polo field.

Jakku would never have someone maintain a private grass field that’s the perfect size for an arguably unnecessary sport; poverty is too prevalent and the need for one null. But Tatooine is known for horses, even in a place where it seems like horses can’t thrive.

Somehow you can play polo at a place like this, and Rey can still have no god damn idea what is going on. The game seems to be in full swing as she walks next to Ben, watching how he shakes his silky umber hair from his face and pushes the Raybans up the bridge of his aquiline nose. It’s only then that she registers that she’s wearing the same Raybans, boxy and square and large on her face. They fit his just right, and is that why he bought them for her?

Rey is wearing a lot of what he’s bought her. Mainly because displeasing her boss doesn’t seem like the best idea. With the addition of free clothes, she can’t exactly be a raging cunt about something so lovely.

Her A-line tweed skirt is tighter and itchier than she’d like, and maybe the silk tank top makes her feel a little nippy, but thankfully, the black wool oversized blazer she dons covers up any potential scandals. Especially since a reporter and photographer from the Tatooine Times are watching the prince’s each and every move, snapping photos every time Ben leans in to speak to a Hutt. 

Frankly, Rey has no clue what’s going on. She tried to read up on the rules the night before, but the rotation of champagne is too appealing, and she finds herself downing glass after glass. Her head gets dizzy, boozy as the bubbles before her rise to the top of the glass to pop.

Polo makes no sense, and she’s expected to stand here and watch as teams of what she counts to be four men hit a ball around a field on the top of a horse. There are at least little hors d'oeuvres, bacon-wrapped pallie, and grilled horned melon with a caramelized char on top of the fruit. It’s her dream for all intents and purposes. She has no clue why she claps when he does or shifts from foot to foot when his fists tighten a fraction. 

The problem with champagne is that she has to piss like one of the horses galloping in the field. It would be great if she knew where the bathroom was, but she’s clueless in trying to find it by herself. So before even thinking, she leans over to Ben and nudges him.

His attention is immediately on her, concern etching between his brows and eyes darting up and down her lithe form to inspect for something wrong. She’s sheepish, “Do you know where the restroom is?”

Ben visibly relaxes before looking back behind him at the wife of the senior-most male Hutt. He holds up a finger for her to wait, then turning back and speaking in a low voice, “Could you point us to where the restroom is?” Us? It’s not like she needs help peeing or anything, but who is she to deny Ben an escape? The woman is animated as she explains, pointing past him and clutching her hands in front of her chest like a lovesick teenage girl. It’s no secret that Ben activates most women’s inner desire, dubbed the sexiest bachelor in Alderaan much to his chagrin.

Hell, she’s lucky sometimes that she works for someone so hot. He’s dreamy to look at when she has nothing else to do, and he’s turning back to her and nodding off behind her. “Let’s go.”

Oh, she didn’t take walking into account. Even in boots, she feels a little teetery, and before long she feels a gentle hand right between her shoulder blades. A previously traumatized girl like her would kick and scream if sensibilities were in place.

And Ben feels safe.

What does that say about her?

He guides her up the walkways, all the way inside of the palatial Mediterranean style home they find themselves at. Rey spots a bathroom upon entering the mudroom and ducks in before he can protest, slamming the door and hiking down her skirt.

She plops down onto the toilet and takes the liberty to check her phone. Nothing new has been added to the schedule, and she’s relieved to have the chance to leave after this and relax.

That prospect doesn’t last for long as he speaks, “Wanna get out of here?”

Rey zips her skirt and opens up the door to stare him down. He waits, adjusting the collar of his dark blue polo that he’s artfully tucked into tailored slacks. His black blazer matches hers and his whole demeanor is a stormcloud.

“We can just leave?”

He bites his lip and she realizes the answer isn’t that simple. “You see, I was going to pretend you got sick-”

“Your highness, you were going to _ lie _?”

She clicks her tongue to humiliate him further and she notices Chewie entering the mudroom with them. Ben straightens up to appear more regal despite her teasing and sets his jaw while running his tongue along the inside of his cheek. 

“Perhaps. Chewie, pull the car around. I think Rey is over polo.”

“Don’t project onto me.” Though she’s grateful, given she has no idea what’s going on with the sport. Rey surveys how he then looks to Chewie with a hopeless sort of smirk. Chewie shakes his head to himself, grumbling to himself as he leaves the room.

“Should I curtsy for the act of care?”

“Don’t be smart. I expect you to go out later with me.”

She huffs, “And what if I don’t?”

Something unexpected happens then, her stomach hopping up into her throat as he steps impossibly close. Their bodies almost touch, and their faces are a solid foot apart. She’s shorter than him by a long shot in booties and she stands tall.

She gulps, his eyes flash with satisfaction.

“I think you will.”

And Rey knows she will.

👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑

He at least lets her take a nap before he asks for her company out on the town.

Rey should’ve been expecting it from what happened this afternoon.

As tempting as relaxing with a face mask on and watching bad Tatooine paper view with Rose sounds, something about slipping into a red dress to watch a prince grow flustered sounds like more fun. Rey even pairs the red dress with red lips, Louboutin heels on her feet as she steps into the empty elevator. 

There’s still time to turn back, to stop being foolish about royalty. That time lasts all of three seconds when an arm swipes between the closing elevator doors. Ben, smelling of piney cologne and a fresh shower, steps into the elevator with a glance up and down.

“Got all dressed up for a cantina, huh?”

First off, what a dick. She’d ram a Louboutin through his foot if she had sense. 

Second of all: he’s taking his assistant to a cantina? A place complete with dancers, suspicious moonshine from the back, even horrible live music? Cantinas are a desert territory specialty, more common breeding grounds for a black market. Rey remembers stumbling in on a cockfight when she was only eight years old, watching the animal get ripped to shreds in a brutal display of what the desert could really do to a person.

She views his outfit, the obsidian blazer, and tailored trousers, a black t-shirt tucked in. Rey feels very overdressed, but she catches the flash of red on his sole when he walks out of the elevator and into the gold paneled and crimson red lobby. The hotel is trying to be a luxury that it’s not.

“A cantina?” Ben stops and types on his cellphone, clear that they’re waiting on Chewie. Paparazzi sit outside the front doors of the hotel, clicking away through the windows and trying to get a glimpse. Rey wishes she could gnash her teeth at them, stomp her feet like some sort of petulant and bratty fifteen-year-old. 

Though she certainly feels the part in such a get-up that she’s wearing, desiring the ability to go change or at least throw on a coat. She crosses her arms over her chest in a signal that she’s freezing. Ben gets the memo and responds by shrugging his blazer off and holding it out to her. 

Rey takes it, “Thank you.” He just smiles for a moment, small and hidden like the sun behind a rain cloud. The Hutts have him in a bad mood, that much is clear. 

“Car is ready. Are you?” He looks from his phone to her and she nods. They’re going out the back way and Chewie leads the way. Rey takes her time to shrug on the blazer as they walk, hanging off of her.

Chewie closes the car door after she steps up into the hired SUV, and that’s when she notices Ben’s eyes on her.

They look hungry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pray for rey, and leave a comment. i like those a lot. thoughts and feelings are welcome @ [twitter](https://twitter.com/dankobah) and [tumblr](https://dankobah.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> chapter title is inspired by ["wildest dreams" by taylor swift](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IdneKLhsWOQ)
> 
> _the list_  
[whats an adios motherfucker?](https://www.liquor.com/recipes/adios-motherfucker-2/)  
[raybans](https://www.ray-ban.com/usa/sunglasses/RB3016%20UNISEX%20018-clubmaster%20classic-black/805289304449?cid=PM-FGS_300419-PLAUS_805289304449&cid=PM-FGS_300419-PLA-Smart+Shopping-All-Products-June2019-805289304449&gclid=Cj0KCQiAiNnuBRD3ARIsAM8KmlsBtMtX5hDzosVC7bBNtc3p1FMXFgTXBMOFvn-8nmAdj7GmBJMCHIYaAumLEALw_wcB&gclsrc=aw.ds)  
[rey's nippy tank top](https://bananarepublic.gap.com/browse/product.do?pid=493507022&cid=1135208&pcid=5037&vid=1&grid=pds_17_320_1&ak_t=0CF6BC65AC40398DC087660B5508D88BACE80335BA6B00005E7ACF5D6A679018#pdp-page-content)  
[christian louboutin boots](https://www.bergdorfgoodman.com/p/christian-louboutin-marmada-flat-red-sole-booties-prod146990207)  
[tweed skirt](https://www.bergdorfgoodman.com/p/elie-tahari-astrid-tweed-a-line-skirt-prod152480125?childItemId=BGT006E_&navpath=cat000000_cat000002_cat619800_cat620707&page=0&position=1&uuid=PDP_PAGINATION_54e42f8ce1b0908bb4ae94b078805b74_nHsB7QsLVzwrBRX84pgJ9_HWRxy0w7VVjChdJw7a.jsession)  
[oversized blazer](https://www.everlane.com/products/womens-oversized-blazer-black?collection=womens-outerwear)  
[red dress](https://www.thereformation.com/products/trina-dress?color=Sangre&via=Z2lkOi8vcmVmb3JtYXRpb24td2VibGluYy9Xb3JrYXJlYTo6Q2F0YWxvZzo6Q2F0ZWdvcnkvNWE2YWRmZDJmOTJlYTExNmNmMDRlOWM2)  
[louboutins](http://us.christianlouboutin.com/us_en/shop/women/so-kate-5.html)  
[rey's lip color (note the name)](https://www.beautylish.com/s/tom-ford-beauty-boys-and-girls-lip-color-armie)


	6. first sight, yeah, we love without reason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What can I get you?” She looks pointedly at security. Rey feels uncomfortable with her judgment but Ben doesn’t seem to notice.
> 
> “Two Manaan Mules. Also a shot of tequila for the girl.”
> 
> Oh is she getting drunk tonight? Rey isn’t opposed, but isn’t getting sloshed in front of your employer bad luck?
> 
> **Oh well.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **tags**  
pregnancy mention  
alcohol consumption  
drunk character  
slow burn (oops)

The cantina is in its full element when they quietly arrive. Chewie goes in ahead of them to clear any security risks, entering the watering hole and getting her to try to steal a peek from Ben’s side. They stand outside with another security member, an older gentleman by the name of Anthony.

Ben takes the opportunity to light a cigarette from his back pocket, offering one out to her. She shakes her head and sways from side to side, warm in his blazer as he smokes his cigarette. They don’t draw very many eyes here, and the media didn’t follow their car due to the decoys they use when out of their home country.

The moment feels private, secluded away from the prying eyes of the world as she gets to know Ben Organa, the supposed party animal. Though he’s not acting so crazy, and it’s not like she’s ever seen him carried out of a club in a publication. He’s not sloppy, years of being scared straight by Luke Skywalker probably taught him all the ways to hide.

Chewie comes back outside when the cigarette is halfway burnt, and Ben steps on it beneath his Louboutin dress shoes. They’re quite a pair tonight, and he looks to her. She adjusts the blazer atop her shoulders and walks past him to follow Chewie. They’re led to a table around the back of the cantina, the entire bar a circular shape. They plop down into a booth, tucked away and clean. There are no drink menus in sight, and she’d be smart to ask for one.

Anthony and Chewbacca take their posts, standing on either side of the booth opening and crossing their arms over their chest. Ben looks sheepish at the precaution. She doesn’t mind, kicking her leg up to cross over her knee and let her head rest on her propped elbow. 

She watches him as he clears his throat and in a bold move, noticeably turns off his cellphone. She can’t turn off hers, given that she’s cautious, but she elects to ignore it. The beautiful purple-haired bartender comes by their table, tattooed arms flexing as she tosses out two coasters.

“What can I get you?” She looks pointedly at security. Rey feels uncomfortable with her judgment, but Ben doesn’t seem to notice.

“Two Manaan Mules. Also, a shot of tequila for the girl.”

Oh, is she getting drunk tonight? Rey isn’t opposed, but isn’t getting sloshed in front of your employer lousy luck?

Oh well. The bartender walks away with a swing of her hips, and Rey couldn’t be more envious of a girl like her. The confidence reeks, while Rey feels like she’s playing dress-up in whorish red lipstick and Louboutins. His attention remains on Rey, and she finally locks eyes.

His mouth slightly parts, and he adjusts even closer to the edge of the table. She takes a leap of faith and lets the heel of her shoe rub along his calf.

Jackpot. When her heel moves to the other side of his legs, her breath held, he traps her shoe between his thighs. She contemplates pulling it out, excusing herself with a stupid laugh. She does no such thing and holds it there, and he lets her foot go.

Rey hesitates, moving it back to her rightful side, biting her lower lip and raking her teeth over the painted flesh. He continues to survey her like a predator with prey, then cracking his knuckles. The drinks arrive shortly into their staring contest, and Rey breaks eye contact to take her tequila shot. She’s a good girl who doesn’t back down from a challenge. He knows that by now. She takes the shot and bites into the lime, sucking up the juice while probably making a very unsexy face. 

She sets the shot glass down, pushing it away from herself as she spits out the lime back on the provided plate. That was bottom shelf tequila without a doubt, and she wishes that the bartender at least sprung for mid. Ben sits back in the booth and sips from his mule, viewing her as she squirts the wedge of lime into hers and sips away.

Her head is swimming, and she knows she’s going to have to play her best sober game. He makes it impossible, his looking on disarming her. The way he watches her reeks protection to any girl who wishfully thinks. What girl wouldn’t want a prince caring for them? It just seems to be daft of her to think she’s suddenly so special to catch his eye.

“I wanted to speak to you about Naboo.”

Naboo? Oh yeah, the hairbrained vacation she hasn’t started planning yet. At least she can get a week or so off, maybe go back to Jakku and officially tie up loose ends that were left when she vacated the country. Everything needs to be in order for when she goes back after all, given her time working for the prince is limited to however extended Kaydel’s maternity leave is. 

“You have to get me drunk for that?”

He snorts, “For this part, yes. I want you to come with me.”

A pin drops, and she chokes on her mule. Ben recovers, “A bunch of my friends is coming along, and I don’t want to think of itinerary while we’re there.”

So it is a suggested job activity. “You can refuse, I wouldn’t blame you for wanting a vacation away from me.” His laugh after he says it is nervous, slightly tinny.

She spares him, “I’ll do it. Do you intend to go to Naboo after this royal tour?” How much does she need to rip her hair out?

“A few days after. I already have our lodgings sorted.” Is she shocked that the royal family has a property in Naboo? Not necessarily, though, she wonders if it’s in the lake country that travel enthusiasts go on and on about.

“That makes it easier. I want the information as soon as you can get it to me.” It makes her job easier, coordination better when there’s a home base to work off of.

“You’ve got it.” She continues to drink, finishing her mule before he gets halfway through his. 

“Greedy girl, what would you like next?” 

Since she has a choice, and she wants to keep to the “clear liquor only” rule he’s imposed, “Margarita on the rocks. Can you handle one of those too?”

He downs the rest of his mule to prove it.

👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑   
She starts dancing around drink five.

Ben is surprised it took that many, but the music at the cantina has been some rugged desert-worn man with a guitar. Now there’s a weird country jaunt playing over the speakers, glasses clink, and Rey shimmies her body as she stands up by the booth. She’s unable to sit while drunk, and it’s the most endearing thing in his half-drunk stupor. Watching her wiggle her body, turn around and shake her ass towards him, is shaping up to be his favorite activity. No way in hell would he join her, but watching is just excellent.

Chewie and Anthony ignore them as they continue to play their dangerous game with each other, a cat and mouse tale where he is most definitely the mouse. He’s been the mouse since she came with red lips and fuck me heels, her red dress short on her frame and drawing the eye to her long legs. 

Giving her a pair of Louboutins seems to be the best decision he’s made this year — that and taking her to this cantina. The bartender (whose name is Mara, come to find out), wanders by to deliver the two more tequila shots he’s ordered.

Rey is obedient as she plops down to sit, and he contemplates telling her to keep dancing. She’s not a monkey, so he refrains and takes a long moment before taking the tequila shot. Rey doesn’t take hers, looking a little sheepish. “You don’t want it?” Damn him to hell for the hangover he’ll have tomorrow, on a travel day no less. 

“I think I’m sufficiently…” Her trailing off tells him all he needs to know, sitting up slightly to make eye contact with the bartender to pay his tab. They need to get out of here, blow off some steam on Tatooine. His blazer is off of her body, and her cheeks are as crimson as her dress. The sight is so beautiful that he pauses.

She’s too drunk; they’re doing nothing tonight. But there’s no harm in playing with his food, foot reaching out to graze against her. She jumps slightly, looking down beneath the table before breaking into a cunning smile. 

“We can’t.”

He shrugs, still rubbing, “Why not? No one is paying attention to us.” Ben wants to consume her whole, take all of her in, and break her into little tiny pieces for him to play with. He wants to dress her like a doll, and by god, he might want to fuck his employee until she screams his name.

_ Not tonight _ .

But someday, in a different life-

Rey’s hand flashes out, and she takes the shot glass, downing it in one gulp. His eyebrows raise. “Too tempting. Now we can leave.”

Ben takes that as urgent, standing up and wandering to the packed bar. Mara notices him and how he holds out his card, taking it from him. He waits patiently as she pulls their tab together, watching Rey out of the corner of his eye. She’s talking to Chewie as she trips over herself, putting on the blazer.

Ben puts an obscene tip and swoops in, hand flashing out to grab her shoulder. She steadies on her heels, and he looks to Chewie. “There are paparazzi outside, aren’t there.” Chewie nods, stoic as he does. Ben curses under his breath and looks at Rey, how drunk she carries herself. Not to mention she’s in his blazer, and it’s bound to go noticed in the tabloids. The speculation over Rey could kill his good media temper streak.

“We’re leaving out the back.” Chewie walks away without a word, and Ben knows he’s going to make it happen. Rey sways along to the beat of the next banjo tune, and its the most endearing thing he’s seen. Soon enough, Chewie comes back, and they’re ready to leave,

Ben shoves Rey in front of him, steadying her with a hand on her lower back to gently push her in the right direction. She accepts this graciously, and they make it to the SUV without incident. She’s quite dainty about getting in, but he notices she only moves to the middle seat. It puts her right next to him, legs primly crossed and viewing him expectantly.

This is the part he’s shit at, wooing the beautiful girl. He’s been in this hot and heavy position before; only he had the luxury of being the driver. The last person he had been romantic with was Bazine, and now Rey seems to have him at a challenging gunpoint. She’s his drunk employee, and nothing sexual can happen, he won’t allow it. But other things can happen, innocent things like the way he grabs her cheeks to turn her face to him. Her lips purse in his grip, and he contemplates dropping her to get some sense back. No such thing happens, and his breath hitches.

“I like you in red lipstick. Please wear it more often.” The car stops at a stoplight, so he can’t watch her flush through the red glow. He can only view her eyes look bashfully down and then back up, then refocusing back on him.

“I promise I will.”

He can’t help himself, “Good girl.”

It slips like a penguin across the ice, so gracefully out of control that he wants to scream in agony. He drops her face instead and sucks in a deep breath. “I mean-”

“Am I?”

He pauses at her query, how she still stares at him with big eyes. “You are.” 

She beams at the praise and adjusts herself in her seat, uncrossing her legs and reaching to take off her shoes. “Big day tomorrow.” Mustafar is their furthest destination, an island on the outer rim with volcanic activity. Luckily, nothing seems to be active on the days that they’re there, but it’s still a deep fear that he does not fuck with.

“You have another dinner with the acting king when we arrive.” He waves that aside and watches her legs spread just a little, tormenting him. She knows what she’s doing, evident from her smile.

He decides to distract. “You know, sometimes it feels like you’re my only friend on this trip.”

She cocks her head, and he continues, “You treat me like a human being.”

“Is there any other way to treat a person?”

“Look at the media and then ask that question again.” He’s a spectacle, a walking marriage trap. He’s being watched like a hawk for the nearest girl that pays him any mind. 

She hums, “I think people just want to see you happy.” She couldn’t be more childlike and naive if she tried. He ignores that statement in opt of looking at her, watching her wiggle around her seat, and occasionally brush against him. It feels electric when she does, burning up his body in a flame to turn to ash.

This lasts until they arrive behind the hotel, his door being opened by Anthony. Ben slides out of the car and offers out his hand to Rey. She takes it, getting out of the vehicle and not letting go. They walk, hand in hand, into the hotel. Ben only drops the grip when they reach the lobby, not seeking prying eyes. They wait for the elevator side by side, Rey is clearly drunk in the way that she carries her shoes and keeps shuffling her blistered feet on the hotel tile. 

Chewie and Anthony mind their own business in the elevator, and Ben decides to go for the kill, despite sweaty palms and tapping feet. He turns to Rey and she mimics, facing him and staring up at him. Before he can chicken out, he leans down and slots his lips against her parted ones.

Rey freezes, and so does he, mind racing a mile a minute. Did he fuck up? What if she doesn’t like it? Is he drunk? Then her lips start to move, parting beneath his and her fingers knot in the back of his hair.

It’s like a million fireworks go off, as a water show plays behind his eyelids. It’s like running free in a field when you’re small, no consequences.

Then she’s ripping away and backing up, wiping her mouth. He’s reaching for her, and she shakes her head, “I shouldn’t have-”

“Wait, Rey-”

The elevator doors open, and she  _ runs _ down the hall to her room. Ben has the sense to take off after her, but it’s too late. She’s already got the key in her hand, opening up her room door without a look back.

She leaves him in the dust and the cold with a slam of the door, and he wonders where he went wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk how i got this done so fast but marvel at it with me. leave a comment, those are pretty sweet.
> 
> thoughts and feelings are welcome @ [twitter](https://twitter.com/dankobah) and [tumblr](https://dankobah.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> chapter title is inspired by ["dancing with our hands tied" by taylor swift](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=erGyUphZSt8)
> 
> _the list_   
[red dress](https://www.thereformation.com/products/trina-dress?color=Sangre&via=Z2lkOi8vcmVmb3JtYXRpb24td2VibGluYy9Xb3JrYXJlYTo6Q2F0YWxvZzo6Q2F0ZWdvcnkvNWE2YWRmZDJmOTJlYTExNmNmMDRlOWM2)   
[louboutins](http://us.christianlouboutin.com/us_en/shop/women/so-kate-5.html)   
[rey's lip color (note the name)](https://www.beautylish.com/s/tom-ford-beauty-boys-and-girls-lip-color-armie)   
[ben's louboutins](http://us.christianlouboutin.com/us_en/shop/men/corteo.html)   
[the playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5XPDZjvF8ASX8NU7QZd9y3?si=3TSmJ7z7RqmYOOXmAxfWKg)


	7. death by a thousand cuts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a mistake, but Rey can’t sleep.
> 
> They’ve arrived in Mustafar, the entire royal staff cramped into a wing of the palace that Rey feels like she can’t breathe in. Though it’s lushly decorated with woven rugs, pottery, and expensive abstract art, she feels like she’s in prison.
> 
> She’d give anything to be back in her shitty apartment in Jakku if it meant not dealing with the repercussions of kissing Ben Organa-Solo. Not to mention the repercussions of what she’s about to pull, hearing his voice on the phone outside of her second-story window.
> 
> **“I fucked up. I mean it, Armitage.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags  
excessive money spending  
a "will-they-won't-they" couple  
cussing  
grouchy ben

He’s royally fucked this situation.

Rey fucking ran away from him, couldn’t get away fast enough after kissing him. He had taken things too far and breached their professional relationship, and now he’s expecting a resignation mid-tour.

He was up all night over it, making him ghastly when it comes to getting to the Tatooine private airfield. He’s in a foul mood, and Rey even got a separate car from him, taking the car with his mother and Rose. There are only a few select staff and security on this private flight, rounding up the passengers to eight. The rest of the guard showed up to Mustafar late last night, leaving them with bare bones and making everything a hundred times more covert.

Mustafar is a volcanic island in the Magmae seas, still ruled by a monarchy. It’s become much more sophisticated, an island where the economy is booming due to diamond mining. People are wealthy in Mustafar, but there’s always a catch.

The catch is that his grandfather, Anakin Skywalker, murdered Mustafarian natives and tried to conquer with his political advisor, Tarkin ultimately. This is a reconciliation trip, an apology to the indigenous people of Mustafar for past blood spilled. Overall, this is the trip that he needs Rey to keep him sane, not avoid him like the plague because of a straightforward mistake. 

He likes her a lot, but Ben can sacrifice things that make him happy; he’s had practice all his life.

He stomps onto the private plane after security has cleared it, luggage already taken by a flight attendant. Before thinking about it, he storms to where Rey sits, plopping down in the seat across from her. He sets his backpack between his legs and looks her up and down for the first time today.

She’s wearing two things he bought her, and he doesn’t know why he sees this as a good luck charm. The black high neck Theory dress hugs her, but she’s paired the tan Saint Laurent trench coat over it to combat the cold of the plane. Her red bottoms are scuffed, and he makes a note to rush order them immediately.

She needs new ones if they scuff, he doesn’t care how costly or meticulous that might seem. Ben knows he needs to slow down and have a conversation with her, to apologize. He opens his mouth. She speaks first, “Good morning, your highness.”

He’s never called that unless he’s in trouble. Is this her attempt at freezing him out? He grits out, “Ben. Can we talk candidly?”

“Is there any other way to talk?” She’s got a fair point.

He continues, “I didn’t mean for last night to happen. If you didn’t like the kiss, I perfectly get it-”

She interrupts quietly, “I liked it. That’s the problem.”

His eyebrows raise at her, and she clears her throat, “I think our relationship should be kept strictly professional, for both of our sakes.”

He blurts out, “What if I don’t want professional?”

“We don’t always get what we want.” He probably looks incredulous and for a good reason. Ben is used to getting what he wants, barring no expenses or punches. His assistant, who he’d love to bend over this plane seat and fuck silly, telling him that he can’t isn’t apart of his master plan.

“Rey-”

“Ben, it’s not going to work. You know so, I know so.”

“But why not?” He’s genuinely confused, and she doesn’t hesitate.

“Because in the words of Rose Tico, I’m a fucking commoner. Commoners and royals don’t mix.” Rey looks briefly ashamed before crossing her arms over her chest, looking out the window of the plane. Rose scurries by their seating group, a bottle of Pellegrino in hand, and acting as if she didn't hear their tense exchange.

“Let me take you on one date.”

Her head whips over to him, and he swallows down his pride. “Just one. Let me make this right.”

A date isn’t a commitment, nor a ring. A date is a date, and he’d love to go on an outing with someone he chose for once. His stomach is turning, and she begins to shake her head. “I can’t think straight anymore.”

He bites his knuckle before nodding to himself, reaching into his bag and getting out his noise-canceling headphones. He holds them out to her, “I’ll try to reason with you after you get more sleep. Your dark circles are bad.”

“Gee, thanks. Can always depend on you for the brutal truth about my appearance.”

“Call it misplaced concern, I guess. Since you won’t let me care for you.”

“Is buying me Louboutins and messing up my lipstick considered to be careful?”

Touche. He watches her before getting out his other pair of wired headphones, plugging them into his phone and his ears. Rey slips on the noise-canceling ones and shuts her eyes, plugging them into her phone.

They both zone out together.

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This is a mistake, but Rey can’t sleep.

They’ve arrived in Mustafar, the entire royal staff cramped into a wing of the palace that Rey feels like she can’t breathe in. Though it’s lushly decorated with woven rugs, pottery, and expensive abstract art, she feels like she’s in prison.

She’d give anything to be back in her shitty apartment in Jakku if it meant not dealing with the repercussions of kissing Ben Organa-Solo. Not to mention the repercussions of what she’s about to pull, hearing his voice on the phone outside of her second-story window.

“I fucked up. I mean it, Armitage.”

The way he says it makes her heart twist, a sort of hopelessness in his tone that gets her to pull her knees to her chest for a moment. Then she sits upright in bed, kicking the covers off and stepping out of bed. She tiptoes to the open window and sticks her head out, looking down at the pathway that wraps through the garden and right by her window. She got her own bedroom this time.

“Very funny. I don’t know what to do.”

She watches him, and he’s clad in sweats and a hoodie and socks, no shoes. She’s only wearing a t-shirt and panties herself, the shirt hanging like a dress on her frame. She got it from some junk sale, plastered with the Ford logo. It’s also the shirt she wore when she painted the kitchen to her tiny above garage apartment yellow, showing little small stains of paint.

He’s pacing outside her window while talking, and she clears her throat. Ben looks up at her, locking eyes for a long time. “Armitage, I’ll call you back.”

Rey holds his stare before she strokes through her hair innocently. “You know…”

He hangs up the phone, and she continues, “I need help picking out an outfit. I’m miserable at picking luncheon attire. Maybe you could help me out.”

She’s inviting the man whom she wants to have a “professional” relationship with to her room. Has she gone mad? Most would think she’s truly lost her mind for this. His smile is broad and fleeting before his face melts back to serious. “I’ll be right up. I have a gift for you, you know.”

“Do you now?” 

Professional her ass. She’s going to regret this in the morning, and Ben speeds off to head up to her room. In the meantime, Rey turns on the floor lamp in the corner next to the ornate teak vanity. Her suitcase is set out on the bench at the foot of the bed, Louboutins kicked off by the door with her tote bag set next to them. She’s a disorganized mess when she gets off the clock, and nothing will change that. 

Especially not the soft knock on her door, opening it up to Ben standing with his hands behind his back. She looks him up and down, “You look chipper for two in the morning.”

“I could say the same to you. Close your eyes and hold out your hands.” For once, she does as she’s told and humors him as she walks back into the room. She hears the shuffle of his socks across the carpet, and she’s sure he’s following. 

She stops and keeps her hands held out, and a square-shaped object drops into them. “Open your eyes.” She opens and looks at the bright yellow box labeled Breitling. She hasn’t heard of that designer, so she looks up in confusion.

“You’re always checking your phone for the time, so I thought maybe this would help.” She opens up the box and lifts the lid to the container inside, revealing a sterling silver and rose gold watch. The two-tone of the metal shines in even the lamplight, and he stares at her.

She doesn’t realize her mouth is wide open or that she’s blushing until he steps even closer. Then she takes a deep breath and whispers, “It’s gorgeous. Thank you.”

This is beyond unprofessional, but she could give less of a damn. She’s never had something so beautiful presented to her. “I have one too. See?” He holds up his wrist to reveal a black stainless steel band and bezel and a white mother of pearl watch face. 

“It’s custom. I got it for my eighteenth birthday from the designer.”

“You know that you’re ridiculously posh, right?” 

“Are we using Coruscant slang? I’m impressed.”

She rolls her eyes and shuts the watch case, setting it on her bedspread. Ben stands and stares into her suitcase, Rey pushing him aside to rifle through. “All of your linens are going to be wrinkly.”

Without a word, she points to a portable travel steamer sitting by her nightstand. “I like your sophistication, Johnson. I want to see you in another dress.”

She looks at her suitcase and rifles through the rolled clothes for the grey tweed dress she so desires. She finds it, rolling it out and laying it on her bedspread. Then she opens up a zippered shoe bag, dumping out the pristine electric blue Jimmy Choo heels that she found in the boxes he gave her before the tour. “I like it.”

Then he sets the watch right next to it. “Should I add a coat?”

He shakes his head, “We’re on a tropical island. Did you feel how balmy it was?”

“I like the heat. Feels comfortable to sweat.” Ben snorts before he removes his zip-up hoodie, down to a black tee. 

“I approve of that outfit.”

“I wasn’t asking for your approval. I was simply letting you help.” He picks up a shoe and turns it over in his grip, looking at it every which way.

“Your Coruscant gown is almost done.” 

“Is a gown essential?”

“Highly, we’re talking billionaires in attendance. We both need to look sharp.” She can barely hold back from rolling her eyes once more. He sets the shoe down and steps even closer to her, Rey looking up with nervous energy.

“You know, I thought you weren’t going to talk to me anymore. I was worried.”

She confesses, “Against my better judgment, I’ve decided to speak to you.” Ben moves her suitcase a little to the side before sitting down.

“And I couldn’t sleep. Sue me.” She crawls back into her bed, pulling up the thin white sheet and leaving the comforter bunched up at the foot. Sitting up against the headboard, she stares at his broad back and how his biceps bulge from the too-tight sleeves. 

“One date, Rey. That’s all I’m asking for.”

She asks, “Where do you expect this to go? Just curious.”

“I don’t know. I don’t expect anything out of romantic-” 

She cringes at the word, and he amends, “I don’t expect anything out of partnerships. I know that I enjoy your company and would like it out of a non-work setting. Like admit it, you had fun at the cantina in Tatooine.”

“Perhaps I did, but that’s beside the point. I’m common, Ben, and I also don’t trust the media.”

“I’ll protect you from them. You’re my priority, not the clout. I could give less of a shit about my name being in the papers.” It all sounds so pretty coming from his lips, and he shakes out his hair.

“My dad is common. Things could work out.”

She shakes her head to herself and yawns, Ben standing up to face her in bed. She pulls her covers up to her chest to protect herself from his penetrating gaze. “Do I stay or go away?”

She yawns again to answer his question, and she swears he sees a twitch of a smile. Rey shrugs, “You’re going to do whatever you want. You always do.”

He takes the hint and backs up towards the door, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Make sure to wear that outfit. I don’t like it when things get switched up on me.”

She nods, “I promise.”

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The hike has tired him out beyond belief, not taking the elevation of the Mustafarian highlands into account. A simple waterfall hike turned into a difficult task, but at least he got to see the sunset over the ocean.

He took a picture of it and set it as his background; it was that good. The trip to Mustafar is achingly short, this night being their last night before they jet off to Coruscant. That’s the most extended leg of their tour, full of galas and diplomats and lunches. His schedule will be packed, and he’ll seldom see her in a personal sense.

She’s not in her room when he gets back to the palace, or she makes a point not to answer the door. He wouldn’t blame her if it’s the latter; she did break her own rules last night and let him up in her room. Under the pretense of picking an outfit but he was still allowed up.

Ben decides that it would be a waste not to go swimming in the heated infinity pool on the property, the foundation of the palace being built on the side of a cliff with remote access and exit from only one gate. The palace itself has been significantly updated but is on the site of what would’ve been Anakin Skywalker’s castle. 

So he dons his black swim trunks and a rare white t-shirt, shaking out his hair and tiptoeing to the pool with his phone in hand. It’s dark and balmy out, moisture sticking to his skin, and he can’t wait to get into the water.

He encounters no one on the way. After dinner leisure is taking place, and discussions between his mother and the King have begun. No one is allowed into those types of talks, and there are no daughters for Ben to woo. He’s virtually pointless on this leg of the tour, and he likes it that way.

The infinity pool comes into view behind some wide french doors, and he quietly opens them in the dim sunroom. He steps outside, feeling warm and comfortable in the mist from the sea. The Magmae sea is a naturally warm sea due to the climate, and the island rarely gets below fifty degrees. 

Someone else is in the pool, and he recognizes Rey immediately, wearing a Baywatch cut high waisted bikini. The top is a triangle top, and his mouth fills with saliva as he sets down his stuff and sits on a chaise to watch her.

She hasn’t noticed his presence yet, swimming laps in the pool. The hot tub looks enticing for his sore muscles, but he opts to remove his shirt and lay back in the chaise and watch the show.

Rey surfaces for air for the fifth lap he witnesses, pushing the hair from her face and yelping when she finally spots him. Ben waves, and her eyes roll, but she starts to get out of the pool. She’s all lean muscle with curves in the right places, probably using the palace gym when he gives her the mornings off. 

Overall he’s genuinely impressed, and she stands with her hands on her hips as she watches him. “How long have you been home?”

“Not long. The hike was nice. Thank you for arranging it.” He flashes a rare smile before slating his face back to his usual grimace.

“I figured you needed to do something active, or you’d go crazy.”

“Definitely pushed my limits. I wished you went with us.” 

She shrugs, “I would’ve arranged climbing if I knew I could come.” 

“Big climber?”

She nods enthusiastically, “When I can. That’s what I do on my Sundays off, except winter has been cramping my style.”

He chances, “Can I come sometime?”

She looks him up and down, “I’d love to see that. Of course, you can.”

He looks at the watch on her wrist. "You're wearing it still."

"Yeah, I figured that I would look it up and see if it was waterproof. Up to three hundred and thirty feet. Also, it's like seven thousand dollars." He tries and fails to hide his guilty face. 

"And the face is mother of pearl. You've outdone yourself, Ben."

"For you. Only you." He means to be endearing, but he’s sure he comes off as annoying. 

Rey still watches him before adjusting her bikini top, moving her smaller breasts around in an enticing way. “Should I be worried about Christmas?”

“Perhaps. I might replace that cute 1999 Toyota in the garage.” She shakes her head quickly, and he shrugs.

“Typically, we don’t get staff presents for Christmas. Hannukah, however…” How could she be so daft? Their official religion isn’t Christianity.

“Maybe both holidays are in order this year.”

“If you replace my car, I might hunt you down and kill you.” Ben sits up from the chaise and hooks his legs on either side. 

She chances a look at his tee. “Gonna take that off? I feel a little exposed.”

He snorts and removes his shirt, tossing it off to the side. “Your gown is done. I got the email on the hike. It’ll be delivered the day of the gala, and the designer is flying in to fit you herself.”

She asks, “And why is that?”

“I might’ve told a white lie about how you were my girlfriend, and this is your first gala.”

“It’s not my first gala, and I’m not your...your-” She can’t say the words, so she pouts.

“Go with it.” She takes a deep breath and turns around, jumping back into the pool. Ben rises and gets into the heated water after her, swimming immediately to the edge to look over the ocean. It’s a terrifying drop-down, thousands of feet. 

“I’m not that brave.”

He looks back, “You’re braver than me usually.”

She smiles, then swimming closer to him. Ben takes a leap, swimming impossibly close and linking their lips together like a daisy chain. Rey takes it, hands wrapping around the back of his head as he kisses her fiercely.

Then she pulls away first, breathing heavy. “You know this is a bad idea.”

“Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have a million other works happening so i promise i didn't forget this one. leave a comment, i like those a lot. thoughts and feelings are welcome @ [twitter](https://twitter.com/dankobah) and [tumblr](https://dankobah.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> chapter title is inspired by ["death by a thousand cuts" by taylor swift](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GTEFSuFfgnU)
> 
> the list  
[theory dress](https://www.neimanmarcus.com/p/theory-varetta-admiral-crepe-sheath-dress-black-prod192300191?childItemId=NMTD2NW_&navpath=cat000000_cat000001_cat58290731_cat43810733&page=0&position=42&uuid=PDP_PAGINATION_307fe51d862278d6ed348d5497ae7abe_3Vj3gZMQnBL5A-F7YdJj01kpZwrll_xBiCywjVes.jsession)  
[trench coat](https://www.neimanmarcus.com/p/saint-laurent-cotton-silk-belted-trench-coat-prod226710115?childItemId=NMB5D96_&navpath=cat000000_cat000001_cat58290731_cat44700742&page=0&position=81&uuid=PDP_PAGINATION_b21e9a98b1d7981f9e2235cfd923e89d_3Vj3gZMQnBL5A-F7YdJj01kpZwrll_xBiCywjVes.jsession)  
[her watch](https://www.breitling.com/us-en/watches/galactic/galactic-32-sleek-edition/C71330121A1C1/)  
[his watch](https://www.breitling.com/us-en/watches/superocean/44/M17393131B1S1/)  
[grey tweed dress](https://www.neimanmarcus.com/p/misook-half-sleeve-tweed-sheath-dress-prod219370230?childItemId=NMTYDZB_&navpath=cat000000_cat000001_cat58290731_cat43810733_cat48950745&page=0&position=36&uuid=PDP_PAGINATION_4925e51d1204129b5d89bc4c5430e901_3Vj3gZMQnBL5A-F7YdJj01kpZwrll_xBiCywjVes.jsession)  
[blue jimmy choos](https://www.neimanmarcus.com/p/jimmy-choo-minny-strappy-suede-sandals-prod219650042?childItemId=NMX4LL6_&navpath=cat000000_cat000141_cat47190746_cat68670755&page=0&position=55&uuid=PDP_PAGINATION_babcd40f0e827eaf223ec3ea2f121680_3Vj3gZMQnBL5A-F7YdJj01kpZwrll_xBiCywjVes.jsession)  
[rey's bikini](https://www.bikinishe.com/products/sexy-knotted-high-leg-bikini-swimsuit-two-piece)


	8. you're so gorgeous (and i'm so furious at you for making me feel this way)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing happened the night before.
> 
> Not because he’s a coward, but because a pool in Mustafar is the last place he would want to fuck his assistant who he’s been waiting for. So after some kissing, he excused himself to go to bed before much could go further.
> 
> **Maybe that was a mistake, given she’s very late getting on the private plane to Coruscant.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags:  
alcohol and food consumption  
dress fittings  
flirty fucks

Nothing happened the night before.

Not because he’s a coward, but because a pool in Mustafar is the last place he would want to fuck his assistant who he’s been waiting for. So after some kissing, he excused himself to go to bed before much could go further.

Maybe that was a mistake, given she’s very late getting on the private plane to Coruscant. They wait, his mother especially patient, for Rey on the airstrip. They usually travel to the airport together but she was running late then too, so she couldn’t join him in the car. He sent one back for her so she’d have a ride, and he did get confirmation she got picked up.

So now it’s a waiting game and Ben feels slightly stressed and like he’s coming down with something. He must eat a substantial meal in Coruscant and take some immune supplements to keep it together.

As if it’s a sign from God himself, Rey rushes onto the plane with the original Fendi purse he bought her in tow. She nearly trips, wearing Louboutins as per usual and Ben quickly gets up to catch her just in case. Rey manages to catch herself right in front of Leia, dipping into a flawless curtsy. “Sorry I’m late, I overslept and couldn’t find my passport-”

Leia uses her gentle voice, “You’re fine, Rey. Go take a seat.” Ben watches Rey like a hawk as she walks carefully past Rose and to the seat right across from him. She’s wearing a black shirtdress that hits just above her knees. She’s paired a black oversized blazer with it, and the Louboutins are the scuffed, original ones he bought her. She drives him mad, especially when she dresses well. 

Setting her purse at her feet, she crosses her legs and stares him down. She takes her sunglasses off the crown of her head, fixing her hair as the flight attendants do final checks. “Good morning.”

She bites her lip and nods. “Morning, I’m sorry I’m so late. It won’t happen again.” He shakes his head and clicks his seatbelt into place. Rose scurries over and hands Rey a large iced latte, and she looks as if she will cry.

Ben glances at his watch and notes she’s wearing hers, “Did you have any breakfast?” She shakes her head and Rose walks away from them to get back in her seat quickly. He reaches into his briefcase and grabs a granola bar he saves for moments like these. Offering it to her, she takes it and digs in.

He’s very glad she’s eating, and she buckles in as the flight attendant passes by. Ben nudges her foot with his own, grabbing her attention. Once she’s focused on him, he makes it a point to lick his lips. 

Rolling her eyes, she crosses her arms over her chest and the plane rolls on the tarmac. “You look very good, Miss Johnson.”

“Thank you. I tried today, your highness.” 

“I can tell. I like it a lot.” Ben leans over when the flight attendant scurries by. 

“If we could get two glasses of red wine.” Rey raises her brows and the flight attendant nods and walks away.

“It’s ten in the morning.”

“I think we’re due for it given the morning we’ve had already. I didn’t think you would even make the flight.”

She shrugs, “But I did, didn’t I?” Kicking her legs, she gets on the edge of the seat when the two glasses of wine are set before them, Ben holding up his. They clink, then sip while staring into each other’s eyes.

Ben sucks the alcohol off his teeth before asking her, “What’s on the agenda, then?”

She reaches immediately into her bag and that’s when he notices her legs spreading a little, giving him a peek of black lace. He swallows more wine, and she crosses her legs again when she sets the agenda on top of her knees. 

She’s trying to kill him.

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Coruscant is a clusterfuck of an arrival if Rey can speak candidly. Security is on high alert, separating her and Ben as soon as they step off the plane, bringing him and his mother to an armored car. They follow in a cushy Escalade, her and Rose catching up on palace demands and Rey catching up on charity emails that he hasn’t gotten to yet.

Her phone vibrates with a message.

* * *

| Prince Ben Organa - 11:07 AM |

Your fitting starts at 12, my room.

* * *

She forgot all about the gala tonight, and she’s in no shape to be presented to people without a shower and a good coat of makeup. Her brain runs into an overdrive of stress and Rose notices, reaching to hold her shoulder.

“Listen, galas are fun. You get drunk and watch rich people try to find something in common. We’ll practically be invisible the whole night.” She knows she’s right, but given that she’s about to try on a gown she’s never seen before, she knows things can get much worse. 

They arrive at the luxurious and modern hotel and checking in is their responsibility. Traffic has made them a little late so both the queen and the prince are waiting patiently while she and Rose rush to the desks. They separate, Rose handling the accommodations for the queen and Rey handling the accommodations for Ben and herself. Rose and Rey are sharing a room this time because Rey knows she needs someone else in the room so she doesn’t foolishly invite Ben into her bed. 

It will not work out with him, it can’t. Korra is a helpful hotel person and makes the process seamless, reassuring her they have their own floor that’s secured to their specifications. Then she hands over the keys and Rey scurries over to Ben where he sits on his phone.

Looking up, he rises and takes a keycard from her almost as if it’s on fire. Then, as quiet as possible, “What’s your room?”

She shakes her head at him and he pouts. A full-on, lip sticking out pout. That could get her to cave because she gets aroused whenever he acts like a brat. It’s a struggle to realize that in front of him and she straightens up. Then she walks away from him and to Rose and the Queen stepping into the elevator. Their bags are being taken up by a bell boy also in the elevator, and security crams in there. There’s no room for Ben but he wedges his way in anyway, right next to Rey.

He can’t talk to her, given his mother is right there. She’s avoided the question for now, and they arrive at one of the top levels. They filter out and it forces Rey in step with him as Rose and the Queen head in the line's front walking the empty hallway. Ben looks over at her and leans to whisper in her ear, “It’s so I can send something to your room later.”

“What are you sending?”

He looks mischevious. “You’ll see, sweetheart.” Rey sighs at the pet name and they stop at his door, and he opens it up with a keycard. They let a security guard do a sweep before they head in, and Rey stands in the doorway as Ben grabs his suitcases from the bellboy. 

“I need to go get my heels. I’ll be right back.”

“You won’t need those for this fitting. I got your shoes.” Rey raises an eyebrow. 

“I thought I had the choice in shoes.”

Ben shrugs, “I figured it would be easier if I picked. I’m sure you’ll like them, along with the dress.”

She says, “I feel like a little doll.” Then she plops down in a modern-looking egg-shaped armchair in the room's corner. 

Then, “Because you are.”

Before she can crack back, “Would you like to try on the shoes? Just so you can see?” She finds herself nodding despite her anger, and Ben unzips his larger suitcase to pull out a pair of silver and strappy Louboutins.

Ben then walks over to her and kneels in front of her, and her breath catches in her throat. Picking up her foot, he takes off a shoe and exposes the seam of her thin pantyhose. His head is close to her lap, “Take off your hose.”

“I haven’t shaved.”

He rolls his eyes, and she obliges, standing up and putting her dress covered front right in his face. He watches her reach up her dress and remove her pantyhose by wiggling it down, and she never thought she’d be doing this in front of her employer. Tossing the hose off to the side, she sits back down and he slips the shoes on her feet.

The shoes are beautiful, silver and crystalline looking as she twists her foot every which way. “You will need to shave for this dress.”

She’s not shocked at that and she stands up when he finishes tightening the buckles. Ben rises to stand as well, towering over her. His mouth opens, about to say something before there’s a knock at the door. “Must be the designer. Stay standing.”

She does as she’s told as Ben opens up the door to two older men, one short and squat and the other one wiry. Neither reaches Ben’s height and they look chipper and cheerful with a trunk in tow. “Rey, this is C and Arty. They do the tailoring and designs for my mother’s dresses.”

Holy shit. Leia has worn many intricate gowns and if these are the producers of such finery, she’s in good hands. Ben allows them in and C wanders up to air kiss both of her cheeks. “She’s gorgeous, your highness. Dressing the prince’s girlfriend’s body is one of my greatest honors.” 

Rey’s eyebrows raise at Ben and he mouths, “Go with it.”

Arty, the shorter one, circles her like a hyena examining prey before setting the trunk and garment bag down. “Are you ready to see your gown, dear?” Rey feels the nerves bubble up.

Ben answers for her, “Ready as she’ll ever be.” Arty springs into action and opens up the trunk, taking out a sewing kit and extra fabric. Then he closes the trunk and pats the top.

C explains, “If you could remove your clothing down to your underwear then hop up there. If you’d like to keep a bra on, you’re fine.” Rey looks to Ben, who turns around as if she’s commanded them. That makes her feel a little better, given she’s not wearing a bra.

“I’m not wearing a bra and I don’t intend to with the dress if I can get away with it.” She strips with little preamble.

C responds, “You won’t need to, and I would recommend you don’t.” She takes off the shirt dress and keeps her lacy black thong on, stepping up onto the trunk. 

They’re close to the bed and C asks, “Can I step onto your bed, Ben?” He’s taking his shoes off and Ben nods. C steps up and Arty unzips the garment bag. Before she looks, Rey finds her eyes closing and her hands raising. The fabric, a fine satin, slides over her arms. She gently puts her arms through two openings and then feels the dress rest over her breasts. 

“Is he still turned around?”

Ben replies, “Yes.” 

C laughs aloud and then Rey opens her eyes, looking down at the dress. It’s a baby blue asymmetrical neckline with a ball gown skirt. There’s a slit that runs up the front that exposes her legs, and a brocade of silver lace and embellishments along her left hip. She’s never seen herself like this and a messy three buns feel too inelegant for such a piece.

Rey says, “Turn around.”

Ben does as he’s told and gazes at her, his eyes so soft and making her belly turn like a washing machine. Fuck him for liking her, it makes everything twenty times more complicated. “That’s exactly what I wanted.”

Ben walks over and reaches to hold some of her skirt, Rey teetering on top of the trunk. “Needs to be hemmed a little though. She could trip.”

C nods, “I agree. Also, I want to remove a little padding in the bust. She looks much better without it.” He nods as well, and she stands perfectly still and tall. 

“Can someone take a picture so I can see all of it?”

Ben obliges with his phone, stepping back and taking a full body picture and turning the phone to show her. The skirt is huge, and she wonders how she’s going to walk. Rey looks down at herself. 

“You’ll be the best-dressed there.”

Arty is working on hemming it, gently cutting away skirt and liner. Ben is still viewing her like a piece of art and she can’t help her blush.

She can’t wait to see his face when she tries to look gorgeous. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is shorter because the gala is about to be a beast. leave a comment, i like those. thoughts and feelings are welcome @ [twitter](https://twitter.com/dankobah) and [tumblr](https://dankobah.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> chapter title is inspired by ["gorgeous" by taylor swift](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EUoe7cf0HYw)
> 
> the list  
[rey's shirt dress](https://www.bergdorfgoodman.com/p/carolina-herrera-faille-3-4-sleeve-shirtdress-prod150650023)  
[black louboutins](http://us.christianlouboutin.com/us_en/shop/women/so-kate-5.html)  
[fendi bag](https://www.fendi.com/us/black-leather-bag/p-8BN310A5E8F13X3?gclid=CjwKCAiAuqHwBRAQEiwAD-zr3aMVRR3eSfbfu1e7HvcQmBFL61zXJUQM4BZGwnneiffHtK00zKW5dRoCcAwQAvD_BwE&gclsrc=aw.ds)  
[oversized blazer](https://www.everlane.com/products/womens-oversized-blazer-black?collection=womens-outerwear)  
[silver louboutins](http://us.christianlouboutin.com/us_en/shop/women/renee.html)  
[the gown](https://www.eliesaab.com/en/haute-couture/spring-summer-2019/14)  
[the playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5XPDZjvF8ASX8NU7QZd9y3?si=XzjSCfZQR0O0wZ-jTqIYlQ)


	9. like i want you (bless my soul)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose curls her hair while her own locks are set in hot rollers, in a fluffy hotel robe while they stand in the bathroom. Rey is freshly shaven everywhere, including her unmentionables because she does not comprehend what will happen tonight. She knows she has control over Ben but wielding it will take some liquor. So Rey doesn’t even protest when Rose pulls a half drank bottle of Hennessy out of her suitcase. 
> 
> They take two shots each, and Rey makes sure she can still steadily walk in her heels after each one. Getting into her gown is the hard part, requiring Rose to stand on the bed just like C and drop it over her head and let drunk Rey figure out the armholes. 
> 
> Eventually, she gets it and Rose zips the back of the gown before stripping to get into her own. Rey can’t help but twirl, marveling the big skirt more while she’s wasted. There’s a knock on the door and Rey looks to Rose, **who opens it up to Ben Organa.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags:  
alcohol consumption  
panicking character  
feelings (oh god)  
drunk character

Primping for such an event takes a while. 

Rose helps her out with it since Leia is also taking a long time to get ready in her hotel room. Rey and Rose share a king bed in the spacious room, both of their suitcases strewn about. Rey has kept everything to one large suitcase, including oodles of purses and shoes. Is the suitcase over thirty inches? Maybe. Does she have to sit on it every time she opens and closes it? Perhaps.

Rose curls her hair while her own locks are set in hot rollers, in a fluffy hotel robe while they stand in the bathroom. Rey is freshly shaven everywhere, including her unmentionables because she does not comprehend what will happen tonight. She knows she has control over Ben but wielding it will take some liquor. So Rey doesn’t even protest when Rose pulls a half drank bottle of Hennessy out of her suitcase. 

They take two shots each, and Rey makes sure she can still steadily walk in her heels after each one. Getting into her gown is the hard part, requiring Rose to stand on the bed just like C and drop it over her head and let drunk Rey figure out the armholes. 

Eventually, she gets it and Rose zips the back of the gown before stripping to get into her own. Rey can’t help but twirl, marveling the big skirt more while she’s wasted. There’s a knock on the door and Rey looks to Rose, who opens it up to Ben Organa.

He’s wearing a dark blue tuxedo, one she recognizes as the Dior she peeked at in his emails. Looking polished and perfectly coiffed, he holds a bright velvet blue box and stares straight at her like she’s the last thing on earth. The attention makes her squirm, and he walks past Rose into their room, uninvited. Rey doesn’t mind much, however.

She doesn’t regret telling her the room number if he looks like this while making the delivery. Rose says, “I’m checking on Leia.” AKA: I’m leaving you two alone. She strides out of the room in her sky-high heels, the train of her long dress dragging behind her. She slams the door and Rey stares at Ben, clasping her hands behind her back and looking around the room then.

“I have a gift for you if you’d close your eyes.” She does as she’s told and she feels cold metal against her throat. Rey tightens her fists but powers through at the temperature sensation, and she feels him pass behind her and brush the back of her neck. All of this would make her go tilt normally, but Ben doing it feels electric.

Ben steps away from her and she hears him step right back in front of her. “Open your eyes.”

She does as she’s told and looks down to the large diamond necklace around her neck, glittering in what seems to be a million facets. Her mouth dries, her palms sweat. She says, “I-I can’t accept this.”

Ben shakes his head, “You can and you will. Women like you deserve diamonds.”

She feels a little faint and plops down to sit on the edge of the bed, fanning her face. He kneels in front of her and reaches just under her chin, tilting it up so he can look her in the face. “Breathe. Deep.”

She does as she’s told, taking breaths despite the boning holding the dress’s waist together. It’s to give her security and shape according to C, but she’s felt nothing more uncomfortable. Ben, in an unprecedented act, reaches and holds both of her hands tight in her lap.

She doesn’t want to let go, and he doesn’t expect her to it seems. “You just stick by Rose all night and follow my mother and me around. There’s nothing to be paralyzed by.” 

“I’ve never been relaxed around the rich.”

“You’re fantastic with me, and you look the part. No one knows that you’re my assistant unless you tell them.” The door opens to the room and their hands drop, Ben shoving them in his pockets and jumping up.

Rose enters the room, “Time to go. Leia is waiting in the hallway so hurry your asses.” Rey nods and Ben does as well. 

Then he flips his stare to her, and Rey feels alien in the gown he put so much care into. Is she the right person to be wearing it? Is she everything he could ever want? Ben walks out of the room and Rey follows, grabbing a Saint Laurent white clutch bag on her way out. It fits a lip gloss, a pack of gum, blister pads, and her essential wallet with a room key; not enough stuff for her sensibilities but it must do.

Rose looks dazzling in blue silk, and Leia looks even better in a bejeweled and long dress with an included cape that turns into a train. She wears a crown on her head, set with blue sapphires and aquamarine. Ben is sans crown, and mother and son lead the way to the elevator, security in step with them.

She’s overjoyed to be moving, even if she’s teetering and drunk. Rose shows her the flask in her clutch as they stand in the silver and chrome tube of an elevator. Rey whispers, “You’re bad.”

Rose leans over and whispers back, “The baddest. It’s the only way to survive and Leia doesn’t seem to mind if I get wasted.” 

Rey can’t help but giggle and the elevator doors open, and she can smell Ben’s spicy cologne in that moment: peppery suede with notes of crisp pine. Bergamot also graces her senses, and she wants to get closer and burrow her face into his neck like a vampire with a meal.

Security organized the car service, and Rey is surprised when she and Ben have a car with Chewie. That’s basically alone, and before Rey can ask how, Ben’s hand is on her lower back and guiding her towards the Escalade. 

She gets in first and he helps with the dress, pushing the fabric into the car and making sure he doesn’t step on it. Rey gathers it up in a pile in her lap, exposing a ton of her legs. It’s unladylike but she could give less of a shit.

The car begins to move, and she thinks deeply, staring out the window as they move and hit traffic. It’s better to be fashionably late. Ben speaks, “You look so good in that dress.”

The compliment makes her flush, and she tosses a piece of wavy hair over her shoulder, “You don’t look bad yourself, you know.”

He makes a brief face but slates back to serious in a matter of milliseconds. “I don’t think you understand how much I care for you.”

She plays dumb, “As an assistant?”

Ben clarifies, “As a person, as a woman. I want to treat you as if you rule instead of me.” What a profound want. She can’t imagine being in his shoes, thinking of the obligations and responsibilities. She then shakes his head.

“I would never want your job or your fame. Never ever.”

He nods, “That’s fair. I don’t either. If I didn’t hate my uncle so much and didn’t join the army, I’d still be on Ach-To and fucking around with historical objects all day.”

She’s never heard about his childhood or his teenage years. Ben’s opening up feels like gin pouring down her gullet, and she’s unable to stop her hand on his shoulder. He looks over and the car slows again.

Ben speaks and changes the whole game in a matter of seconds, “I would spoil you rotten if you’ll let me.”

The truth comes out and her mind races with all the possibilities. It all aligns with how he’s been treating her: buying her things like a tired parent handing a screaming child candy. She’s ready to speak, to ask questions when Chewie gets out of the car. Ben looks at her before the door opens and the flashbulbs go off.

They can’t talk yet.

That eats at her.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

He feels like a dick.

Mainly because he dropped a huge bomb right before having to launch into prince and assistant duties, but also because she looks so beautiful and he’s just mentally tied her down to him. Men come up to her at the gala, gesturing to her and her dress with lewd smiles on their faces.

She looks distracted but bashful as she politely rebuffs them with Rose, standing off to the side while he and his mother discuss the charity at hand, one supplying Malaria shots for the people of Pasaana. Of course, he can’t focus on anything but Rey and is utterly miserable.

He excuses himself in the middle of the conversation to get another drink, “I’ll be back.” His mother nods and looks after him as he stalks away, adjusting his bowtie as passing by Rose and Rey sipping from a flask. That gets him to slow and back up, avoiding the collections of people who are speaking. 

Stepping up to the two of them, Rose quickly hides the flask behind her back. “Fat chance. Hand it over.” She does as she’s told and Ben takes it, uncapping it and sipping the low-quality cognac. His father raised him better and he can taste Hennessy anywhere. Rey avoids his eyes, and she’s leaning against the wall of the museum atrium they stand in. The guests of the gala have the freedom of the science and air museum, and he holds out a hand to Rey.

“Let’s go look at the planes.” Rey looks at him before gently taking his hand, fingernails manicured and skin soft. 

Rey then looks to Rose, “We’ll be back.” Ben offers back the flask and Rose takes it, tucking it back into her clutch.

“Have fun.” Then she gives a long look to Rey, who avoids her eyes and begins walking. He falls into step with her, letting go of her hand for appearance’s sake. She holds her clutch however, and he takes it from her gently so she can safely hold the rail of the grand staircase that leads to a few upstairs exhibits. The whole building exudes modern and futuristic, and he’s been to this museum a few times with his father when they were dragged to Coruscant for his mother’s social events.

They reach the top of the stairs and Rey holds out her hand. He takes it in his own and she sighs, “I wanted my bag. But I guess this is nice too.” 

He hands the bag to her other hand and they walk away from the top of the stairs to disappear into an exhibit before anyone can see them intertwined. The sound of her dress dragging across the floor is reassuring that this is all real. They pass by a staff only door, “Do your feet hurt yet?”

Suddenly, without answering or warning him, she pops open the staff door and tugs him into the stuffy broom and mop closet. 

Rey slams the door behind them, covering it up by leaning against it.

She breathes hard, the bodice of the dress definitely digging into her ribs and the heels most likely pinching her feet. It’s almost like her expression says “fuck a gala”, especially one that keeps them miles apart. 

Ben’s loosening his bowtie and feral words come from her lips, reminders from right before his exit from the car. “Spoil me? You want to spoil me?”

Her breath hitches and his palms sweat.

Ben doesn’t hesitate for even a second, sensing he’s trapped in here, “I wouldn’t want anything more.”

“What does that fucking mean?!” She’s enraged, and he can tell there’s an edge of drunk bravery that he wishes he possessed. What would his father do in this moment? He holds out his hands gently and she glares at him.

“I have done nothing but be your assistant, why the fuck do you want to spoil me?”

He fires back, “Because you deserve it!”

That gets her to pause and Ben continues while pinching the bridge of his nose. “Because I want to see you in gowns like these and diamonds like what’s around your neck, I want to fuck your little holes while you wear Louboutins and because I want to see you thrive in the world of beautiful things because you fucking deserve it.”

He then walks even closer to her, leaning down to get very close to her face, staring into her teary eyes. Drunk frustration is something he’s felt before and he doesn’t poke the skunk. 

“Give me a chance to do that. Give me a chance with you because I have wanted nothing more.”

The space of time where she doesn’t answer is the longest of his life, but when she nods her head, he feels his heartbeat again. Straightening up again, she wipes her eyes while he fixes his blazer.

“Come to my room tonight when you feel sober and ready. We have a lot to discuss and do if you’re comfortable.”

She agrees, “As you wish, your highness.”

The title makes him smile for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeehaw, i got this done super fast. hope you like it, the next chapter is the main event. comments are pretty rad, so leave one if you can. thoughts and feelings are welcome @ [twitter](https://twitter.com/dankobah) and [tumblr](https://dankobah.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> chapter title is inspired by ["i think he knows" by taylor swift](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3JrqLM7Hq7I)
> 
> the list:  
[rey's gown](https://www.eliesaab.com/en/haute-couture/spring-summer-2019/14)  
[rey's shoes](http://us.christianlouboutin.com/us_en/shop/women/renee.html)  
[the necklace](https://www.harrywinston.com/en/sunflower-harry-winston-small-diamond-necklace)  
[leia's gown](https://www.eliesaab.com/en/haute-couture/spring-summer-2018/57)  
[ben's tux](http://www.justjared.com/photo-gallery/4245556/adam-driver-oscars-february-2019-05/)  
[rose's gown](https://www.neimanmarcus.com/p/zuhair-murad-azdorado-off-the-shoulder-silk-plisse-gown-prod225980695?childItemId=NMB5A1U_&navpath=cat000000_cat000001_cat58290731_cat48730734&page=1&position=2&uuid=PDP_PAGINATION_719937308087f9c36bc2927748182481_3Vj3gZMQnBL5A-F7YdJj01kpZwrll_xBiCywjVes.jsession)


	10. king of my heart (body and soul)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She closes her mouth after taking a deep breath, exhaling through her nose and gripping her hand around his hard length. She’ll play with a prince. After everything they’ve done to each other, the dinners shared, the bottles of wine drunk, she deserves this. She deserves a wanton man, who’s shifting as close as he can to her despite the seatbelt. His hand pushes the fabric of her dress aside to hold her thigh.
> 
> **“I suppose you’ve done your thinking?”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags:  
dubcon due to alcohol consumption (both are very much consenting and enthusiastic though!)  
alcohol consumption

They stay at the gala until it’s done.

After Ben’s confession, it’s easier to separate and chew on what he’s said to her. Also, she drinks a lot more, to numb whatever the fuck her body is telling her to do. Rey can sober up if she needs to, and she’s able to work and open up the door to their car service for him. 

Even in a gown, she can get a lot of shit done, especially while the rare emotions of drunk and motivated course through her veins. Ben glances her up and down, inebriated himself. He stumbles a bit and gets in the car, Rey getting in after him and gathering her dress into the vehicle while the flashbulbs pop. This is bound to be in the media tomorrow and Rey can’t focus on that right now.

The car speeds off and Ben clicks his seatbelt into place. Rey looks for hers but he’s already reaching over, grabbing the belt and clicking it over her front. She grabs his wrist and stops it at her hip, then taking his hand into her own and pressing a glossy kiss to each knuckle.

Her gloss leaves a sheen, and she admires it in the futuristic and LED lights of Coruscant. The glitter particles catch each refract of light. Ben pulls her hand into his lap, and she feels a hard bulge against the fabric of his slacks. A cock clothed in Dior is hotter than any normal cock.

She closes her mouth after taking a deep breath, exhaling through her nose and gripping her hand around his hard length. She’ll play with a prince. After everything they’ve done to each other, the dinners shared, the bottles of wine drunk, she deserves this. She deserves a wanton man, who’s shifting as close as he can to her despite the seatbelt. His hand pushes the fabric of her dress aside to hold her thigh.

“I suppose you’ve done your thinking?” He gets very close to her face but doesn’t move any further. 

Rey whispers, “It’s a bad idea, but I elect to take part in bad ideas.” Then she presses her lips against his in a chaste kiss, pulling away quick as a shot. She gives him a cunning grin, and he crosses his arms over his chest, taking his hands off her.

Rey pouts, “You’re not very nice, you know.”

“Neither are you.” Then she nips at his ear and he unclicks her belt, pulling her into his lap while she happily squeals and kicks her feet. 

“I’m plenty nice but I’ll show you my mean side tonight. I promise.”

That sounds intriguing enough, dealing with a bratty prince in bed. Shit, where are they going to fuck? She and Rose share a bed and it’s not like she can be seen wandering out of the prince’s room at any hour by security. 

Then again, Chewie is listening to her shift around on top of Ben so she can kiss his pouty and plump lips. Ben takes them gratefully, gloss and all. In a sea of the skirt, she’s found her safety net in him and grinds down on his hard length. 

The car slows to a stop behind the hotel and she crawls off of him. Hearing a tearing noise, she gasps and sees her heel got caught on the back of her skirt. “Fucking hell-”

“It’ll be fine, we can send it off to Arty who will mend it and clean it. They take care of us well.” She slides out of the car and waits for him, watching him adjust his pants uncomfortably while walking. Rey leads the way, given she’s overdressed for the halls. 

They’re flanked by a security detail as they walk to the elevators, and the moment feels private enough to reach for his hand when she sees no one they know. Ben takes it in his and her dress swishes along the floor as they enter the elevator. 

They stay silent as they ride up, Rey looking behind her at the city below. The neon lights and bright colors, all the chrome, the sky-high buildings, and thick glass railways: it’s a beautiful utopia she wants to spend more time in.

“Here’s what you will do.”

His voice is quiet, they only have seconds left in their ride. “You will go back to your room and freshen up. Take off all that makeup, change into something you want to be ripped out of, and then you will come back down the hall to me.”

How is she supposed to get out of the room without Rose questioning her? They’ve been suspicious enough already, and she takes a deep breath to protest. She gets no opportunity to as the doors open and security and Ben file out, pulling her with him. They walk down the hall and Ben slows and eventually stops with her at her door.

Rey looks over, sobering up. “I hope you come. I’ll understand if you don’t.” Way to break her heart. She nods and then turns to the door, knocking while Ben walks away, whistling.

Rose opens up the door and looks her up and down. “Help me get out of this dress or so help me god.” Rey wanders past her and Rose follows, unzipping the gown and still viewing her as an alien species. Rey steps out of the gown and walks to the bathroom, not bothering to cover up her chest. Rose keeps it casual with the nudity. 

Rey removes the extravagant necklace, settling it in the box, when Rose speaks, “So you and the prince, huh?” 

Rey stays calm, “What do you mean?” Rifling through her suitcase, she finds exactly what she’s looking for in the form of Christian Dior briefs. These had shown up in the pile of clothing he bought her and she had assumed, after all this time, that they were just his and he made a mistake. Now she realizes, as she slips them over her hips, that they fit perfectly and hug her sides. The waistband reads “Christian Dior J’adior”, and she grabs a basic grey tee to throw on top of it. 

Is she comfortable? Yes, but she feels her insides light on fire as Rose speaks, “Are you going to his room?”

Rey walks past her, “Yep.”

Rose follows and Rey removes her makeup with a wipe, scrubbing at her eyelashes to remove residue of mascara and pencil liner. “Are you coming back?”

Rey shakes her head and Rose sighs, “You know this is a bad idea, right? Fucking your employer is a huge no-no.”

Rey washes her face with cleanser next and while the bubbles sud on her face, “I won’t know if I try,”

“Won’t know what? What a royal dick he can be?” Rey dabs her face with a towel and Rose scoffs.

“I suppose I can’t stop you.”

“Some support would be nice. I am about to fuck a guy I kind of like.”

“Kind of like? Does the money have something to do with it? Is he brainwashing you?” Rey rolls her eyes and storms past her, grabbing a fluffy hotel robe out of the closet, slipping socks onto her feet. 

“Maybe he makes me happy. Have you considered that?” Rose snorts and Rey shrugs on the robe, grabbing her phone and clutch off the bed where she threw them. 

“Ben Organa can’t even make a mop happy. He’s a stuck up brat who gives his mother hell, parties too much, and looks down on people.” 

Rey shrugs, spiteful now, “Oh well. I’ll see you at the luncheon tomorrow. I’m going to go get fucked with probably a nine-inch cock.” Then Rey sticks out her tongue and backs out of the hotel room and into the hall. Slamming the door behind her, her eyes roll back into her head before she heads further down the hall to the suites. 

She knocks on his door, wrapping up tight in the hotel robe while she waits for him to answer the door. He eventually does after thirty seconds (she counts in her head). He’s dressed down, only in briefs and getting straight to the point of what they’re about to be doing. Rey swallows and walks wordlessly past him, staring around the futuristic hotel suite. There’s a sitting area overlooking the city and candles and a charcuterie board with two glasses of wine are on the coffee table.

Looking back at him, he explains, “I thought you’d want something to eat before-”

“No, this is perfect.” Rey wanders over and sets her clutch and phone off to the side on an end table, leaving a spot for him next to her. A fire roars in a fireplace before them and her socked feet sink into the shag rug. Ben sits down next to her and takes a glass of wine, handing her one as well and clinking gently.

“To your first gala.”

She can’t help but blush as they sip at the same time. Rey then sets it aside and kisses both of his cheeks, the tip of his nose, everything but his lips. He runs a hand along her back, reaching past her to get a piece of cheese and hold it up to her lips.

Rey takes it gratefully and sits back into his hand to chew, letting him support her effortlessly as he eats his flatbread and cheese combo. Rey points to the black spread, “What’s that?”

“Caviar.”

“You’re fucking shitting me.” He laughs.

“I’m not. I always get it on my charcuterie boards.” 

Rey hums in displeasure but sticks a finger into the spread to taste it. It tastes of salt, like a sea breeze on her palette with a touch of creaminess. “Try it like this.” Ben smears it on a cracker and holds it up to her mouth, Rey biting into it and chewing thoughtfully.

She speaks after she swallows, “I don’t hate it but it feels like a part of a fish I shouldn’t eat. Seems kinda cruel.”

“So nitpicky. But you enjoyed it?”

She admits while stacking a piece of prosciutto, cheese, and a cracker, “I did.” Ben looks satisfied before guzzling more wine, and she mirrors him. He’s not nearly as drunk as her, but hers is a comfortable drunk. If she wasn’t, she’d be overthinking what Rose said and not be here.

Ben is worth it, she’s sure of it as he turns on the television over the fireplace. It’s huge, and Rey keeps happily munching away on cheese and crackers while he scrolls through the channels. She wonders when he will pounce on her, and she speeds up the process by shedding her robe and getting up to stand in front of the fire under the pretense of warming up.

It’s showing off her ass, and she turns her back to him as she wiggles her butt back and forth while she warms her hands. “You fucking tease.” She giggles and looks back at him, blowing a kiss while she watches him palm his cock through his briefs, other arm thrown over the back of the sofa. 

It’s an enticing sight, and she wanders back to drink more wine, letting it slick her teeth and swish around her mouth as she gazes at him. Ben stands, towering over her when she’s without heels. Then he leans to kiss the top of her head, gentle as his hands travel to the hem of her shirt. 

She lets him remove it, just revealing her breasts and the Dior briefs that go over her belly button. “Very nice. Do you mind these being ripped?”

She asks, “How much did they cost?”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” Ben pats the waistband before pouring himself more wine, walking away from her. Rey follows him, bringing the bottle along with her. It’d be a shame to waste a bottle, even with someone as beautiful as him. She sips from her glass, setting it on the nightstand before flopping onto her face on the bed.

Ben climbs on the bed, leaning up against the headboard and watching her get up to sit back on her heels. She reaches for her wine again, holding it in one hand while her other hand reaches to play with her nipples. Ben reaches out and swats her hand away, both hands coming up to cup her breasts and spread over the expanse of her chest. Then his thumbs rub over her hardened nipples, looking up at her like a puppy.

“You said you would be mean.”

“I did, but then you’re wearing no shirt and Dior underwear. I have to be nice to art.” That makes her flush more, the wine assisting. 

“You know what would make this look better? One second.” Then he gets up and walks to his suitcase, opening up a pocket and pulling out a black box. She inhales sharp as he opens it up to a necklace, a chain covered in diamonds. Then he motions to her neck.

“I’m giving back the other one.” 

“Nonsense. Stay still.” He clasps the chain around her neck, then adjusting it on her collarbones. Rey exhales, and he steps away to admire his handiwork. 

“Very, very good.”

“How much did this cost?”

He shrugs, “I don’t look at prices.”

If Rey could puke, she would. Instead, she pinches the bridge of her nose while shaking her head. “Having this much money around my neck makes me nervous I’m going to get killed.” 

“We have some of the best security in the world, I doubt that’ll happen. Besides, they’re all armed.”

Rey adjusts herself on her heels and then reaches to pull him close and kiss him, to distract herself from the upcoming anxiety that this brings her. She’s about to fuck her boss, she’s kissing him like a whore in Dior underwear to start the hellish descent into madness. Only he’s treating her delicately, combing through her curls as she kisses him and all over his face, down his aquiline nose and his sharp jaw. Rey kisses until she has to break for breath.

“You’re so sweet, kitten.” She smiles and lies on her back then, spreading her legs and settling a hand over her fabric-covered stomach. She waits patiently while he takes another long drink of wine from her glass and gives her sloppy kisses between her breasts.

Her nipples are hard in the room’s chill but his mouth fixes it, tongue swiping over her nipples and lips closing to suck obscenely. Then he presses more kisses and nuzzles his head against her.

“What do you like?”

“What do you mean?”

He elaborates, “Sex-wise. How do I make you feel good?”

He’s asking her? Rey’s never been asked how to be pleasured; men just guess and she finds out if she likes it or not.

She acknowledges, “I guess I like a lot of foreplay.” 

He responds, “What kinds?”

She looks explicitly at his mouth, “Oral. Maybe some fingers while you do oral. I like um…” she bites her lip, “praise?”

He nods, looking as if he’s mentally ticking off a list. He’s listening to her, and that makes her heart flutter even more.

“Are you tested?”

Rey nods, “After my last partner two years ago. I was clean but I don’t mind condoms. I’d prefer to use one for this time.”

He nods, “I have some thin ones. They’ll still protect you just fine.” She trusts him, and even if it breaks, she has a chip in her arm. Nothing will come out of this. He then kisses her ribs and reaches for the waistband of her panties. 

Then he rips them, right down the middle. Rey chokes, and he smiles. “I’ll buy you so many more if you’d like.” 

She nods, “You will. And I want lots of thongs.”

“I’ll get you so many thongs if you’ll wear them for me. Red thongs, blue thongs-”

“Now you just sound like Dr. Seuss.” Ben pulls the remaining fabric down her legs, leaving her bare for him. She’s so glad she’s shaved, not even stubbly yet. Though there are a few cuts because she can’t be perfect. 

Since she spread her legs, he can see her pussy perfectly in the low lighting of the bedroom. The silk sheets feel perfect against her bare ass too and this whole situation is luxe. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

Then he nestles himself between her legs and licks a fat stripe up her pussy, collecting wetness on his tongue and tasting her. His tongue feels better than a rapture and her fingers tangle in the hair on the back of his head as he licks and suck so slow.

Her hands come up to feel the chain around her throat, at the ridges of diamonds. “Will you let me spoil you rotten?”

The words are coming before she allows them, “Yes, sir.” The sir title is an extra touch that gets him to stop and he sits up. Rey looks fearful before he smiles wide.

“Say sir one more time.”

Rey blinks, then whispers, “Sir?”

“God, you look so good saying it. You look good no matter what you do.” Rey can’t take the flattery or the way he dives back into her pussy like a meal. It feels so good and so new, the passion raw and grating against her nerves and screaming _notice me_.

“I’ll buy you the whole motherfucking world, baby.” His mouth comes off her and her stomach flips over in a sheer drop of pleasure. Rey wants more, she wants to be full of his tongue.

“Should I put a condom on and get to this?” She can’t help but laugh and he smiles at that.

She then whispers, “Please.” Ben obliges, popping out of view and rifling through his suitcase while Rey scoots up the bed. Then her legs flop open again, and she’s twitching wet as he comes back into view with a condom flawlessly on his dick. As a girl who’s had to put so many condoms on guys, she welcomes his initiative. Ben is a man who knows what he’s doing, rather than a boy in a first fumble.

He gets between her legs again, lining up his cock and holding her up under her hips. Rey holds the sides of his face as he looks down and sheathes himself into her in one shot. The stretch stings and she writhes a little.

“You’re okay baby. It’s all right.” His words soothe her and she breathes through the stinging until it subsides and she kisses the tip of his nose. 

“Am I good to move?” She nods.

“Slowly. Let me adjust a little.” He nods now and starts thrusting slow, in and out of her with care. Rey focuses on his face, studying his moles and the way his brows furrow when he goes deep. He’s careful about fucking her, like she’s the finest porcelain and liable to crumble into dust.

Eventually he gets more reckless, gripping her hips and nipping at her neck. “Be careful, no one can know.” Except everyone will when the inevitable bruises show up, or the way she walks the next morning. She will look like a colt in her heels because of him and his thrusting. 

Ben reaches between them to rub her clit and look her deep in the eyes, thrusts slowing so he can hold back from spilling into the condom. His stamina thrills her to no end, and it sinks in that she’s truly getting fucked by a prince right now. “What can I buy you next?”

Are they doing this now? Rey can’t think of what she wants when she’s getting satisfied, and she stutters. Then, “Uh, shoes?”

“How many shoes?”

“Five pairs of heels. All Louboutins.” 

He nods, “Done. I’m buying you a car too.”

She grabs his face, “Let’s not get too crazy. Naboo first. We’ll talk about a car after.” 

He rolls his eyes, “Deal. Only because you want me to wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i got this out quick so i hope you guys enjoy it. leave a comment if you did. thoughts and feelings are welcome @ [twitter](https://twitter.com/dankobah) and [tumblr](https://dankobah.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> chapter title is inspired by ["king of my heart" by taylor swift](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1dmQXMGz7dE)
> 
> the list:  
[dior briefs](https://www.dior.com/en_us/products/couture-844E50AM506_X0200?size=TL&gclid=CjwKCAiA3abwBRBqEiwAKwICA2ghB126cj0jgr9Y3jVdhupUkwitaq2EGm_hO7A--9vf-L6TI-vXFxoCSp8QAvD_BwE&gclsrc=aw.ds)  
[the necklace](https://www.neimanmarcus.com/p/sydney-evan-14k-white-gold-micro-diamond-link-necklace-16-l-prod222840356?childItemId=NMPAQQE_&navpath=cat000000_cat4870731_cat50910737_cat4870734&page=0&position=29&uuid=PDP_PAGINATION_70a87dbaf9d34c3490b5088c4d89e248_3Vj3gZMQnBL5A-F7YdJj01kpZwrll_xBiCywjVes.jsession)  
[the playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5XPDZjvF8ASX8NU7QZd9y3?si=tenrCzonTW6-kqeB06uZkg)


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